


Halloweenie 2020

by dbzkink



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Adult Dende, Blood, Bottom Son Goku (Dragon Ball), Candy, Cemetery, Coming Out, Costumes, Crossdressing, Drag, Exhibitionism, F/M, Fear, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, Genie - Freeform, Grief, Halloween Costumes, Halloweenie 2020, Lemon, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Magic, Masquerade, Mating, Mating Bites, Mating Rituals, Moonlight, New love, Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Tails, Top Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Truten, Vegebul, Vegeta is Bad at Feelings (Dragon Ball), Werewolf, Witchcraft, bones - Freeform, howl - Freeform, kakavege, scream, vampire, vengeance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:12:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27182959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dbzkink/pseuds/dbzkink
Summary: Each chapter is a different one shot for Halloweenie 2020, the summary for each will be in the chapter summary. I'll update tags as the days progress and put the day, prompt, main ship, and title here.Day 1: Masquerade/Moonlight/ Scream: Trunks/Goten: Antony and CleopatraDay 2: Blood/Howl/Fear: Broly/Vegeta: Second SunDay 3: Cemetery/Vampires/Witchcraft: Bulma/Vegeta: A Lone PlotDay 4: Candy/Genie/Bones: Vegeta/Piccolo: A Genie in a CaveDay 5: Vengeance/Werewolf/Magic: Vegeta/Goku: Sweet VengeanceDay 6: Enthrall/Pain/Trick or Treat: Adult Dende/Piccolo: Tricks and TreatsDay 7: Haunted/Wicked/Chains: Piccolo/Vegeta: The Bonds of Friendship
Relationships: Broly/Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Bulma Briefs/Vegeta, Dende/Piccolo (Dragon Ball), Piccolo/Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Son Goku/Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Trunks Briefs/Son Goten
Comments: 53
Kudos: 62
Collections: Halloweenie 2020





	1. Antony and Cleopatra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trunks had no real interest in Halloween or masquerades or holidays in general, but Marron, the only person Trunks had come out to, convinced him to go to this soiree. It was a LGBTQ masquerade. She thought maybe he could meet someone. Get laid. Marron thought Trunks needed to get laid. By a man. He’d f**ked women, of course, he was almost thirty. It had taken him some time to come to terms with being gay.
> 
> A story of Trunks finding Halloween costumes liberating.

Trunks had no real interest in Halloween or masquerades or holidays in general, but Marron, the only person Trunks had come out to, convinced him to go to this soiree. It was a LGBTQ masquerade. She thought maybe he could meet someone. Get laid. Marron thought Trunks needed to get laid. By a man. He’d fucked women, of course, he was nearly thirty. It had taken him some time to come to terms with being gay.

That was a lie though. Trunks wondered if Marron suspected the real reason that Trunks struggled to come out had nothing to do with homophobia or preferring dick or being bi. Trunks didn’t even know if he was really gay so much as the person he loved, the person he wanted to spend his life with, the only person he fantasized about, made him gay. 

Trunks had found other guys attractive and flirted with them, even though he’d never been to bed with a man. There were women too, obviously, since he’d had sex with some, that appealed to Trunks’s dick. Trunks’s dick had lower standards, broader taste, and a willingness to settle that Trunks’s heart simply didn’t have. Trunks’s heart, his soul, they were monogamous. Obsessive. They both only wanted the best. Trunks’s mind too. He knew who the best was, and Trunks would never have him.

Which was why he bothered to find a costume for the masquerade. Only once he contemplated what to disguise himself as did he understand the appeal of a masquerade. For one night he could be someone entirely new. Entirely different. He could be someone who wasn’t being eaten alive by unrequited love. Love that would never be requited. 

Trunks deliberately hadn’t seen the object of his affection for the past several months. They were both busy, so it was a reasonable hiatus to their friendship. Trunks suspected the next time they saw each other, the man Trunks loved would tell him that he was engaged to the girl he’d been dating for over a year. Trunks mentally prepared himself daily for that eventuality. Trunks wondered if Marron could feel Trunks’s despair and had forced the masquerade on purpose. Marron was a lesbian, but she and her girlfriend had other plans. Despite that, she insisted that Trunks go to this party and get some dick.

Marron told him cross-dressing was welcome too, that he could disguise himself as a woman, even, if he wanted. She offered to do contouring if he wanted, full makeup. Which was how he settled on his choice: Cleopatra. It felt a little strange to go as a woman, but Trunks didn’t want to be himself even remotely. Because his self was already in love. Cleopatra might yet meet her Marc Antony. Or even her Caesar. Cleopatra was surely less picky than Trunks.

Money was useful for such things and he procured a stunning costume. Trunks was built with such a V-waist and big pecs that with the appropriate application of a push-up bra, well-placed duct tape, and things formerly unknown to Trunks called, revoltingly, “chicken cutlets,” he made himself some decent cleavage. The hardest thing to cope with were his arms: his costume was sleeveless. Trunks’s arms were muscular, too muscular, and obviously masculine. But there was nothing to be done about their chiseled, testosterone-advertising glory.

Marron was due to come over a couple hours before the party to complete Trunks’s transformation into the beautiful pharaoh. The wig was a bit of a challenge, but he’d bound his over-long hair in a man-bun on the crown of his head and successfully hidden every last lavender strand. The wig was high quality and really looked like shiny, silky black hair adorned with delicate tubes of gold around the bottom. They made a soft, tinkling sound whenever he moved. As a final touch, he streaked perfume down either side of his throat. He didn’t even want to smell like himself tonight.

Marron knocked just as he finished situating the crown with the cobra above his eyes. She brought costume contacts to make his eyes appear an enchanting golden-green color. He’d tried them on the week before and that was what really sold him on the whole idea. If even his eyes were different, he would no longer be Trunks—heir to Capsule Corp, the Saiyan prince, and the best friend of Goten, who would never love him back—he would _be_ Cleopatra.

“Holy shit, Trunks! You’re pretty even without makeup. It’s not fair you get to be so pretty as a guy and a girl. I don’t think you need to worry about your arms, there’ll be other guys in drag, so no one will even notice that you’re rippling with muscles,” she said and giggled.

He said, “I mean, I’m trying to pick up a gay guy, so I hope they notice a _little_ that I’m jacked.”

She said, “That isn’t what I meant, doofus. I meant that it won’t take away from you being a sexy fucking empress,” she said and pushed past him and went into his bathroom. A bathroom that was meant for two people. A couple. Two people who lived together, loved each other. Trunks batted away the heartsick feeling he got imagining Goten and Valese sharing a bathroom. 

Marron told him to put in the contacts, so he did, staring at the unknown person he became. She set him on the toilet and began painting him up, chattering the whole time about how many guys were going to hit on him, how he’d have no trouble getting laid, and that maybe he’d meet someone special. Trunks wanted her to stop talking because thinking about doing this, committing himself to getting over Goten, made Trunks want to vomit.

It took forever and Trunks wondered why anyone would willingly wear makeup every single day. Until he saw himself. He was fucking _gorgeous._ Maybe he should just cross-dress all the time. Marron said, “Trunks, you are hot enough that I want to bone you even though I know you have a dick. You are going to have the best time tonight. Even if you don’t find someone, it’ll do your new gay ego good to get out there and see how they all slaver over you.”

“What if only lesbians slaver over me? I’m dressed like a woman, how would gay guys even know if I’m attractive.”

“Seriously? They are going to see those cheekbones, that jawline, and that smile and want to fuck your brains out. The makeup just enhances the genetic gifts your hot fucking parents bestowed on you, so knock that off. There’s no question you’re a guy, but you’re beautiful. I want you to go into that party knowing that. I want you to _be_ Cleopatra, you know? Live it. Introduce yourself that way. Anyone chatting with you will get a kick out of it and I know a lot of the queer folks going to this shindig and they will eat it up if you stay in character all night. Just have fun. I wish you’d tell me why you’ve been so mopey the last few months. Have you talked to Goten about it at least? Have you come out to him yet?”

“No, not yet. We’ve both been busy so we’ve been like ships in the night. I’ll try harder to get together with him after Halloween. Or the holidays. I’m sure he’s busy with Valese and all. I think he’s going to ask her to marry him,” Trunks said, practicing his acting skills now by not bawling like a baby at just the thought.

“Yeah, no, I don’t think that’s happening. That’s been falling apart for a while. I betcha that’s why you haven’t seen him, I bet he’s just trying to keep that train wreck together through the holidays so he doesn’t have to deal with ChiChi bemoaning his lack of wife and the accompanying lack of uterus destined to bring her grandchildren. But I can see why you’d think that, Valese seems very ready to get married and be the aforementioned uterus. You know what’s funny though, my mom thinks _Goten_ is gay. She was completely shocked when I told her you were, but then she said, ‘Oh, that makes sense and explains why he and Goten are so close.’ My mom, man, her observations of humanity are hilarious.”

“You told your mom that I’m gay?!” Trunks squeaked, again working very hard not to ruin the heavy black makeup Marron had put around his eyes. His green-gold eyes.

“Of course I told my mom!” Marron said like Trunks was some kind of idiot for thinking that “secret” meant you didn’t tell other people.

“Marron! Fuck! I don’t want your mom to know, what if she tells my mom or my dad? She spars with my dad sometimes. Fuck, fuck, fuck. My mom will kill me if she finds out I’m gay from someone other than me,” Trunks said, wanting to tear out his hair.

“Chill, dude. She knows you’re still on the DL. She swore she wouldn’t tell anyone. Especially your parents or Bulla.”

Trunks tried to calm down. He said, “I don’t want to go tonight. It’s going to be awful. I don’t know how to pick up a guy at all!”

Marron giggled and said, “Sorry, me neither, or I’d offer advice. But I think you just talk to them and if you guys have chemistry, then you do what you do with women and see if they want to go home with you, right? It can’t be that much different? Just more dicks involved.”

“I’m used to just the one!” Trunks cried.

“I know, but you need another. You’ve been so despondent lately. I think it’s because you’re keeping secrets from Goten. How long have you known, anyway? I know some guys take a long time to really figure it out,” Marron said, her eyes boring into Trunks.

“Nah, I’ve known forever. I just…Whatever. I’ll tell Goten when the time is right. I’m scared he won’t want to be friends anymore,” Trunks said.

“Goten has gay friends. He’s not like that, Trunks.”

“Yeah…I know,” Trunks said, barely able to speak he was so close to crying.

“Okay, Cleopatra, let’s get you to this masquerade so you can practice getting dick. You gonna use falsetto?” Marron said and wiggled her eyebrows at Trunks.

Trunks wished he could muster Marron’s enthusiasm. He said, “I wonder what an ancient Egyptian accent sounded like? That’d be cool.”

“Just do low-key British. That works for people.”

“Whatever. I’ll figure it out,” Trunks said and groaned inwardly that he had ever agreed to this. He stuffed his phone, wallet, and keys into his cleavage and said, “Why the fuck don’t women get pockets? It’s so fucking annoying.”

“Don’t be crabby already, you’re only two minutes into experiencing the patriarchy from the lesser side. Maybe you’ll have more sympathy for us vajay-jays, huh?”

“Yeah, shit. No pockets is a pain in the ass,” Trunks said, finally grinning, knowing that would rile Marron.

“Oh, yeah, because that’s our biggest concern,” she said with a snort.

“I’m giving you shit. I’m gonna fly to the party, okay? I’ll text you tomorrow and tell you how it goes,” Trunks said, needing a few minutes alone to gather his courage to become a beautiful pharaoh. To try to get dick.

“Okay, hold on, let me get a picture to send to Ten,” Marron said.

“No! Please, don’t do that. I…Take one with my phone and I promise I’ll show him when I come out, okay?”

“Fine, you big baby,” Marron grumbled, but took his phone, already sweaty from his faux cleavage, and snapped a few pictures. Trunks got into it a little, posing dramatically and smiling, even.

“Have fun tonight, Trunks, promise?” Marron said, squeezing his hand in hers.

“I’ll do my very best. Thanks for doing my makeup!” Trunks said and launched straight up to fly out of the sight of the humans that thronged the street. He was grateful that the moon was hidden by clouds, leaving it almost pitch black outside. The party was outdoors and he hoped dimly lit. He thought he would probably look prettier lit by firelight.

Trunks touched down far enough away from the party that no one would freak out that he could fly. He practiced walking with a sexy sway to his hips and when he reached the pavilion, he sashayed up the stairs. It was a good start to the evening as several heads turned to take him in, one man nearly dropped his drink.

Trunks gave them all a coy inclination of his head and walked to the bar, getting the hang of rolling his hips in the sexy way he’d seen women and men do on the catwalk. The sensation of eyes on him was delightful and when he turned his head as he waited at the bar, he was glad he’d let Marron talk him into the subtle metallic golden body paint she’d spread on his cleavage, throat, arms, and cheekbones. The whole area had only firelight and outdoor heaters for light so he glimmered like something from another world. He loved it.

Trunks said to the bartender, who was cute, “What do you suppose Cleopatra drank?” It was easier than he thought it would be to make his voice sound more like a sultry female voice.

The bartender grinned broadly and looked Trunks up and down and said, “Whatever the hell she wanted. The first one’s on me. Godsdamn you look good. What’s your name? I’m Josh.”

Trunks held out his hand in such a way that Josh could kiss his knuckles if he wished. Trunks blinked with heavy, seductive slowness, which was easier thanks to the thick, black false eyelashes Marron had applied. “Cleopatra Ptolemy. So nice to meet you. I believe I’ll just have vodka, straight up, on the rocks.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a drink fit for a queen. Top-shelf for you, your highness,” Josh said and laughed.

Trunks laughed too, thinking how funny it was that he was actual royalty, of a kind. He took the drink, fished a ten zeni note out of his cleavage, and put it on the bar. “Thanks, Josh, you have a great night.”

“Yeah, I will,” Josh said, not even glancing at the money, but watching Trunks as he strolled away. Trunks had inherited Vegeta’s ass. It was the best thing his father had ever given him. There was plenty of bad to be said about Vegeta, but the man’s ass was cake, and Trunks wasn’t too proud to say so.

Men approached Trunks nonstop. There were various games around the periphery of the party. All simple things, like beer pong, and some more like children’s Halloween games with an adult twist, bobbing for miniature bottles of liquor instead of apples. There was dancing too. And plenty of mingling. 

Trunks tried, with every single guy, to find a spark, but he couldn’t. Maybe he wasn’t as Cleopatra as he thought. He sauntered back to the bar to re-up his drink, because he was going to need to be drunk to go home with anyone, of that much he was sure, but stopped dead in his tracks.

Standing at the bar, in a very impressive costume of Roman armor and regalia, was one of the hottest men Trunks had ever seen. The curly, dark wig, but no laurels, made Trunks wonder if it was possible that the well-built, hot-as-fuck guy was dressed as Marc Antony. That would be almost too much. He bore a striking resemblance to Goten, which Trunks tried to ignore, but it was probably all the makeup. His eyes were lined with kohl, and he had dirt and a bit of gore marking up the bare parts of his skin as well as his face and armor. 

The man’s arms were thick and well-muscled. He was more ripped than Trunks, who tended toward his father’s wiry build rather than bulk. The Roman soldier was a few inches taller than Trunks. Trunks’s only complaint was that he wore cologne, so Trunks couldn’t smell his real smell. A lot of cologne. No one was perfect, Trunks supposed, and Trunks was wearing a lot of perfume, so maybe the Roman soldier was also trying to be someone else. 

The potential Marc Antony chatted amiably with the bartender. Trunks suddenly felt self-conscious and unsure. Would it be weird to hit on someone based on their costume? Before he could consider it much, the bartender gestured excitedly in Trunks’s direction, pointing Cleopatra out to the Roman soldier.

Marc Antony turned and his jaw actually fell open. His eyes raced over Trunks, taking all of him in as he tried to shut his mouth, but Trunks saw the words, “Holy shit,” form on Antony’s lips. 

It was all the encouragement Trunks needed. Because this was as good as it was going to get in the “forgetting Goten” category. Trunks sauntered to the bar, but before he could order, the man surprised him and dropped to one knee, bowing and placing his hand over his heart. 

The guy said, “My queen, you look divine, as you are.”

Trunks worried for a flash about being too weird, but gave himself over to the night. What were masquerades for if not to escape your actual self? He crooned, “Rise, fair soldier of Rome, do I know you?”

“Not yet, but I know you as your beauty is spoken of even in Rome. I am Marc Antony, Caesar’s lieutenant, sent to seek an alliance with you, Cleopatra,” the man said and stood. He accepted Trunks’s hand and didn’t disappoint as he kissed the knuckles while staring into Trunks’s—no, Cleopatra’s—eyes. Antony’s were vivid blue. So vivid, in fact, that Trunks realized they were contacts. He appreciated that maybe this man was here to escape his real self too. “May I buy you a drink, my fair queen?”

“You may. Then maybe you would take a turn about the palazzo with me, there are enemies and spies everywhere, and I would be grateful for the protection.”

“I would lay down my life for you.”

“So chivalrous,” Trunks said.

“It would be a crime against the gods, and my heart, if I let any harm befall you,” Antony replied and picked up both their drinks with a little coy smirk.

Trunks could hardly believe what was happening as they strolled around the party. They didn’t talk to anyone else. They didn’t play any games. They slid into talking about everything so easily that Trunks felt the first fluttering of hope that he could possibly get over Goten. He was ambivalent about it, because he also loved loving Goten, but talking to Antony made Trunks’s heart thunder.

After their second drink together, the party was getting wilder. By the time they found a cocktail height table to settle at with drinks and some hors d’oeuvres, Trunks was ready to jump Antony. The electric lust between them was palpable and Trunks knew that Antony felt it too. Trunks’s duct tape was loosening on his pecs because he sweated so much in anticipation. Even the thought of Antony reaching up under Trunks’s skirt was oddly titillating. He hoped that Antony would be game for screwing in their costumes.

Trunks inhaled food and so did Antony, who marveled at Trunks’s speed and voraciousness. He grinned and said, “You eat like me! That’s refreshing!”

Trunks laughed. He was so focused on Antony’s gorgeous face that he was too slow in reacting when a man in a poorly crafted sheet-toga wrapped around Trunks from behind, squeezing his carefully crafted breasts. “‘Ey, Cleo, don’ was’e yur time with him. Imma Seezur,” the man slurred and trailed his hand lower.

Trunks stood and hit the man with an elbow under the chin that sent him flying. With shocking speed for a human, Antony was on him and pinned him by the throat. “Never fucking touch her!” he growled, “I’ll kill you if you touch her again.”

“You know thass a dude, righ’?” the man said, pointing at Trunks.

A bolt of fear ran through Trunks that maybe his Antony _didn’t_ know. Trunks would die if the man really thought he was a woman and then lost interest.

Antony scoffed, “No shit, you moron, look how sexy his fucking arms are. And I can smell the duct tape holding his pecs like that.”

What a bizarre thing to say. But Trunks didn’t care at all. The man thought his arms were sexy. And more importantly, knew and apparently liked that Trunks was a man. Trunks’s dick stirred, imagining Antony fucking him. 

Antony still held the man down by stepping on his chest. Antony hissed, “You’re not Caesar, you’re scum.” Antony turned and walked back to Trunks, his eyes on fire. The contacts couldn’t hide that. 

Antony grinned and said, “Nice move, you almost knocked him out and I bet he has a couple loose teeth. You fight?”

“Yeah, some,” Trunks said, “I’m pretty busy with work lately so I don’t get to as much as I’d like.” 

“Yeah, same. Hey, um, you want to walk around the grounds with me? I think I’m done drinking for the night…and I know I won’t find better company,” Antony said. An adorable blush crept across his cheeks, barely visible under all the makeup. Trunks wanted to kiss him right then. He looked so nervous asking Trunks that it was a relief.

“Yeah, that sounds great. I didn’t think my tits were convincing enough that anyone would try to grope them,” Trunks said, his pulse skittering up. He didn’t even know how he wanted Antony to respond to that statement, but he held his breath anyway.

“I imagine they look better as pecs, but they work great with the costume. You look sexy as hell,” Antony said.

Trunks blushed like an idiot and said, “You too. I like that you added gore. It’s a nice touch.”

Antony almost said something, but stopped himself. Trunks wondered what it was. Trunks had almost said something about the battles he’d been in, but that usually freaked people out. Earthling’s memories surrounding the Buu incident were all kinds of fucked up and Trunks never brought it up because of that. Trunks deflated a little, thinking of all the parts of his life that he had to keep secret. That he was an alien. That he was super strong. That his father was a genocidal royal alien reformed into a pretty domesticated house husband.

Then there was the fact that he was CEO in training at Capsule Corp: if he wanted to have someone love him for himself and not his money, he could never bring that up in the first hundred dates or so. Trunks was nonexistent online as much as possible. His mother had done a great job keeping him out of the press as a kid, thankfully, and all his statements now were done via phone interview to prevent people seeing the new captain of the Capsule Corp ship.

As they got farther from the myriad torches, Trunks was glad of his Saiyan night vision because the moon was still hidden, even though it was full. People were always extra excited for Halloween when it was a full moon. Antony impressed him more as it got darker, he was steady on his feet, nimble in the dark. He took Trunks’s hand and they walked through the botanical garden hosting the event.

Antony said, “It’s nice there’s still some stuff in bloom. It smells amazing out here, even this time of year.”

Trunks took a deep breath and said, “Yeah, it’s a perfect night. It’s too bad about the clouds. I bet it’d be even prettier under the moonlight.”

Antony nudged Trunks with his elbow and said, “I’m not sure you could get much prettier.”

Trunks snorted out a laugh and screamed. 

Antony said, “What?! What happened? Are you okay?”

Trunks guffawed and said, “Oh, man, sorry. That startled the shit out of me. My pecs had a lot of duct tape and a bra and these weird things my friend told me chicks use called chicken cutlets. Anyway, I’ve been sweating and my tape just came loose and I think I broke the bra and now I have a couple weird pieces of silicone stuck halfway down my belly.”

Antony laughed and turned to face Trunks, sliding his hand over his stomach and onto his hip. “Anything I can do to help?”

Trunks’s breathing came in fast draws and he whispered, “I might just have to take the bra and the tape off and make do with pecs. Is it…Um…I…You cool if I take my top off for a second?”

Antony bent down and kissed Trunks as his other hand gripped Trunks’s waist. Trunks wished he had better self-control because he moaned. Antony tasted perfect. His smell up close was like a dream come true. He even smelled like Goten. Trunks was already getting hard as he reached up and wrapped his arms around Antony’s neck.

Trunks had expected the first time kissing a guy to feel weird or momentous, but it wasn’t either of those things. It just felt so fucking _good._ His concerns about his pathetically needy noises dissipated as Antony murmured, “Wow. Whoa. Damn. Hey, can I help you?”

Trunks’s body was shaking just a little from nerves as he and Antony worked in the pitch dark to undo the fastenings on his costume until he was only in a bra that had split between the cups, the tattered remains of duct tape, and two silicone falsies clinging to his abs. He chuckled and said, “Thanks. Sorry. This is like the least sexy thing ever.”

Antony dipped his head and kissed Trunks more, sliding his hand up Trunks’s bare back to press their bodies together. He kissed down Trunks’s neck as he tossed the bra, tape, and cutlets off into the forest. Trunks almost foolishly incinerated them with a chi blast, which would ruin everything. Instead he noted where they went and decided he’d just get them when they were done with their midnight romp. He didn’t want to litter just because he was horny.

Trunks tried to hide his surprise when Antony slipped the top of his costume back on, but didn’t stop kissing him. Trunks panted, that could only mean that Antony wanted to fuck with their costumes on, which Trunks wanted as well. But it sent a pang of longing through him. It was exactly the sort of thing Trunks knew Goten would do. Goten was just so sweet like that. He would never presume to get to keep a person undressed just because of a wardrobe malfunction.

Antony surprised him more as he pulled out of the kiss, rummaged in the flower bed where he’d tossed Trunks’s discarded tit-props, and took Trunks’s hand again. “Come on, there’s this cool gazebo that isn’t too far from here and there’s a trash can on the way. Unless you want to keep your chicken cutlets?” Antony laughed.

Trunks grinned and said, “No, I’m good. If I need tits again, I’ll just kill another chicken.”

Antony chortled and said, “Gross! I dated a girl once who used those and when she told me I totally thought they were actual chicken and I was so disgusted.”

Trunks swallowed hard. That was an interesting development. He’d been banking on the other gay party knowing what the fuck they were doing. But maybe Antony was bi and just knew his way around ass and pussy. 

As if he’d heard Trunks’s thoughts he stammered, “I…sorry…um…It’s probably weird that I just talked about a girl. I…Can I be honest?”

“Yeah, I’d prefer that,” Trunks said and laughed.

“I broke up with my girlfriend a couple weeks ago,” Antony began.

Trunks’s heart sank. Trunks was obviously a rebound for Antony, maybe he wanted to fuck a guy to spite the girl. Trunks wondered if he was doomed to fall for guys who couldn’t possibly fall for him. Trunks said, his voice almost a ghost, “Oh…”

“No, I mean. Okay, that sounded weird too. The thing is, she was getting really intense and I realized that…that…I just realized that I’m gay. I’ve been in denial about it a little. I thought I was when I was a teenager and there was a guy that I was really, really in love with. Shit, I probably shouldn’t tell you that either, but, um, anyway, he dated girls though. So I…I did too. And it was fine. I don’t _dislike_ women. But as shit got serious with her, I thought, maybe I’m just actually gay and that’s why I’m not feeling it? I heard about this and…I…I just wanted to be someone else for a night. But I also kind of hoped I’d meet someone that I’d feel something for…and…I, um, yeah, I think…It’s never felt like that, Cleopatra. No kiss in my entire life. I’ve never kissed a guy, so maybe that’s it, but I don’t think so. It just felt so _right_.”

Trunks blew out a big breath. “Yeah…It did.” Trunks’s heart felt stomped.

“I’m sorry, the reason I’m blathering about all that is because I’ve…um…I’ve never been with a guy, so, uh…I…can, can you show me the ropes?”

Trunks tried to stifle his laughter, but he couldn’t, so he choked out, “It’ll be the blind leading the blind, dude. I’m…Yeah…I’ve never been with a guy either. A similar story, except with less girlfriends, but a string of disappointing one night stands. So…maybe, um, maybe we can figure it out together. I…I really like you.”

It was well and truly dark now that they’d reached the gazebo. Trunks had no idea how Antony was navigating with human vision since Trunks could hardly see with Saiyan vision. But he no longer cared about anything except fumbling through getting fucked. Antony whispered, “I really like you too,” and kissed Trunks as they entered the gazebo. He’d dropped Trunks’s destroyed costume parts in the trash and now held Trunks’s lower back with both hands.

They kissed furiously and their ragged breathing was the only sound breaking the peace of the night. Trunks gasped as Antony kissed down his neck and Antony scooped him up and laid him back on a long, stone bench. As if he’d heard Trunks’s fantasy earlier, he ran his hand up Trunks’s bare leg under his skirt. They shivered in unison at the electric touch. 

Trunks clutched at Antony’s head as he sucked along Trunks’s collarbones. The wig came loose and Trunks said, “Oh, shit, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care, toss it over there, we’ll get it when we leave,” Antony panted and inched the top of Trunks’s dress down. “Fuck, your body is incredible,” he said and tugged it down more so he could take Trunks’s nipple between his teeth.

Trunks vacillated between excitement that this was actually happening and sadness that it wasn’t Goten making out with him. Trunks had fantasized for so long about what it would be like. He felt a little guilty that Antony reminded Trunks so strongly of Goten. It made him feel like a fraud.

Trunks shifted so Antony sat on the bench. Trunks hiked his dress up and straddled him. Trunks was nervous. He had no underwear on underneath the skirt. He felt ridiculous wearing boxers underneath a dress, but the panties Marron gave him were uncomfortable. Trunks was pretty well endowed and stuffing himself in the little lacy number she brought just wasn’t worth it.

He ached to rub his dick against Antony, but the armor was getting in the way. Antony wrapped his arm around Trunks’s waist, still kissing him, and shoved the belt and baltea off, leaving him in his own skirt. Trunks hadn’t considered the fact that they were both wearing skirts. How convenient for fucking. Why didn’t more men wear skirts? Probably because they never had fucking pockets.

Antony hiked his own skirt up and Trunks felt the hot slide of their pre-cum dripping cocks pressing together. “Holy shit,” Trunks groaned, “Oh gods, you’re free-balling too.”

“I didn’t realize you were, but I want to touch you so badly. Can I?”

“Yeah, oh gods, please,” Trunks rasped.

Antony spit in his palm and reached between them, he stroked their cocks together. Trunks made an embarrassingly high-pitched noise of pleasure. It had been a really long time since he’d had sex at all, but it had never felt like this. He was wild for Antony to fuck him. Their hips rolled together and up so that Antony could help them frot, giving them a joint hand-job. Trunks hoped that wouldn’t be it. Even though he was nervous, he wanted Antony inside him. And Antony was rebounding so this might be Trunks’s only chance.

Antony’s other hand cupped Trunks’s jaw and kissed him roughly. He slid it up into Trunks’s hair, the wig unmooring from its pins and falling to the ground behind him. Antony said, “Your hair is so soft. Oh! It’s long too!” Antony pulled out the bun gently and Trunks’s hair fell to his shoulders. He should’ve cut it a long time ago. He’d been depressed and lazy though, so once he could put it up, that was what he did.

They went back to kissing as Antony ran his fingers through Trunks’s hair while jerking them off together. Trunks paused, spit in his own hand, and wrapped it around the other side of their cocks. Antony had a nice cock, thick and hefty. Trunks wished he could see it, but the only thing he could really see was the gleam off Antony’s eyes and his teeth when he smiled. The light sheen of sweat on his skin where it showed.

“I…fuck…Cleopatra, I’m gonna come if you keep doing that!” Antony groaned.

“Baby, I want you to come and then I want you to fuck me,” Trunks gasped out, not even caring if that was too forward.

“Oh gods, yes, fuck, yes!” Antony cried out and they came together. Trunks caught as much of their cum as he could and smeared it on Antony’s dick.

Trunks groaned with sudden misery. He said, “I’m clean, I’ve never had sex without a condom…do you…are…are you?”

“Yeah, I’ve only had sex with condoms too. I’m clean,” Antony whispered, but he continued, “We…we can wait. I, um, if you want, I’d like to go out sometime. Like soon. I…”

Trunks knew it was reckless, but he didn’t care. He said, “You okay doing it raw? No pressure, seriously though.”

“Yeah, with you. I…I just feel connected to you.”

Trunks smiled and was glad it was dark because he could feel himself turning red. “Yeah, me too,” he said. He slathered their joint cum over Antony’s cock, which was still deliciously hard. Trunks was impressed, he knew from the girls he’d been with that most human men lost their erections after coming and had to wait a while to get hard again. Not Antony though. Thank gods, because Trunks ached.

“Hey, um, don’t you think I should warm you up first?” Antony said, “I think asses are different than pussies. Well. I know. I haven’t been with a guy, but I’ve done anal.”

“Oh, yeah, um,” Trunks panicked. He was fine having Antony’s dick in him, but he didn’t know how to handle fingering. He didn’t know why that seemed more intimate, but it did.

“Hey, relax, I’m gonna take good care of you,” Antony laid back on the bench. He startled the shit out of Trunks, easily shifting him until he sat astride Antony’s face, facing his feet.

“Oh! Shit, what…fuuuuck…” Trunks meant to protest, but Antony slid his tongue over Trunks’s pucker and it felt so good that Trunks lost all his will to stop it.

“You taste fucking incredible,” Antony murmured into Trunks.

Antony’s tongue slid inside Trunks with surprising force and began thrusting hard. Antony moaned and Trunks got even more excited. He stroked Antony’s cum-coated cock for a moment before Antony’s fingers slick with his own spit, played over Trunks’s bud. Antony whispered, “Okay?”

“Yeah, better than okay,” Trunks whispered, hoping Antony couldn’t feel him shaking with anticipation. Maybe with a little fear. He’d heard it hurt to do anal, but he wanted Antony inside him so badly, he would endure a little pain if necessary.

“Relax, okay, beautiful? Here, let me get you relaxed again,” Antony said and his tongue swirled against Trunks’s opening before twisting inside him.

Trunks cried out and he concentrated on opening himself up for Antony. Antony’s finger pushed slowly inside Trunks’s ass with a little tongue assistance. He thrust as deep as he could and Trunks felt him experimenting with angle and pressure until Trunks wailed, “Holy shit! Oh, fuck! I…Fuck, I think, oh gods, I think you found my spot!”

“Can I try another?” Antony whispered.

“Yeah, oh fuck, yes, hurry, I want your cock in me,” Trunks pleaded, a little more desperate than he wanted to sound, but he was well past caring about his dignity.

Antony kissed around his opening more as he slid a second slick finger alongside the first. He tapped on Trunks’s prostate until Trunks was writhing, barely able to stay in position. “You ready for me, beautiful?”

“As I’ll ever be. Um, you’ll…you’ll be gentle, right?”

Antony lifted Trunks up completely. Gods, Antony must lift a ton of weights if he could move _Trunks_ around like that. Now he was even hotter for Antony. Antony sat and he stroked more spit onto Trunks’s ass as he adjusted him to straddle his lap. “Yeah, of course, you want to do it like this so you can control the pace. I want to be able to see your face,” Antony said and caressed Trunks’s cheek. Trunks melted. It was so sweet.

Trunks added spit to the slick of cum on Antony’s prick and started to ease himself down onto his thick cock. Trunks, thanks to years and years of training with Vegeta and Goku and Goten and Piccolo, had good pain tolerance. He didn’t want to be in pain while he got fucked, but he also did very much want to get fucked by Antony in that gazebo in the darkness while the magical bubble of them being characters from another time held. He took a deep breath and braced one hand on Antony’s sculpted shoulder and his other hand reached behind himself and held Antony’s prick.

Antony kissed him and tipped his chin up. Antony smiled, his teeth gleaming in the dark, “Hey, beautiful, it’s not a race, take your time. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. Just kiss me and go as slow as you need. I’m not going anywhere, even if it takes all night.”

Trunks relaxed and laughed and pressed their foreheads together. He kissed Antony more, and it was easier to relax when it didn’t feel like he had a fleeting moment to accomplish taking Antony’s dick in his ass. Antony gently palmed one of his ass cheeks and used his other hand to stroked Trunks’s cock in a slow, hypnotic rhythm that was also making it easier. Before long he had half of Antony’s length inside him. 

He let out a shuddering breath, a nervous breath, and kissed Antony. Antony twisted his hand on Trunks’s cock and whispered against his lips, “Still not a race. You feel amazing, even if this is it, okay?”

Trunks nodded. “You’re dick is big, which I know will be great in the long run,” Trunks stopped abruptly feeling stupid and presumptuous. Of course Antony didn’t want to date him. Trunks wanted to die right there, half-impaled on Antony’s big-ass cock. How humiliating.

“I know, you’ll get used to it, but the first few times are probably going to be slow going. Your dick is big too, so I hope you’re okay with slow-going on both ends.”

Trunks’s face snapped up to look at the faint gleam of Antony’s eyes. He stammered, “Oh…uh…yeah, definitely…are you…I mean…do…do you want me to fuck you too?” Trunks couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Antony not only wanted to possibly fuck on other occasions, but wanted Trunks to fuck him back? The thought made Trunks groan as he slid farther down Antony’s cock.

A few panting, whimpering, kissing minutes later, Trunks finally managed to seat himself with all of Antony’s shaft inside him. Antony didn’t thrust, only pulsed a little, which lit up Trunks’s prostrate like Antony was hitting it with shots of electricity. He gasped, “Oh, gods, you feel so good inside me…Thanks, um, thanks for being patient, you know?”

“It felt fucking amazing, you feel fucking amazing,” Antony said and plunged his hands into Trunks’s hair as he pulled him into a deep kiss. Trunks opened his eyes a little, wishing he could see Antony, and as if the gods heard him, the clouds broke open in a rush, and the full moon spilled its light all over them. They were on the moon’s side of the gazebo.

Trunks leaned back to see the man he was fucking without his wig and with a lot of his makeup wiped off by kissing and eating ass. Trunks froze, paralyzed by his own wishful hallucination. Antony trailed his fingers through Trunks’s hair, which was now visibly lavender in the bright, silvery light of the moon.

Antony’s eyes came open slowly as Trunks stopped rocking on his hips and kissing him. Antony blinked, then his eyebrows came together before his eyes widened until Trunks began to believe he wasn’t hallucinating at all. Antony croaked, “T…t…Trunks!?”

“Oh…man…Go…Goten?” Trunks stammered in the moonlight. He had his best friend’s cock buried up to the hilt in his ass. And it felt fucking great. He thought about what Goten had said earlier: he had broken up with his girlfriend, he’d been in love with a boy growing up…Trunks didn’t want to have false hope, but it spread through his heart and his veins.

“Trunks…I…I didn’t…I didn’t think you were gay? I…wow. Okay. Um. You are really sexy right now in the moonlight. I mean…shit, that sounded bad, I…not just now. I mean always. But I didn’t know you were gay. So. Shit. Wow. Um. Do, um, do you want to keep—“

Trunks cut him off and kissed him furiously. He didn’t care. He had fallen for Goten again. Fallen for him when he wasn’t a Saiyan, or his oldest, dearest friend, or a friend of the family. He met him at a party and fell in love with him all over again. If that wasn’t fate, Trunks didn’t know what was.

Goten kissed him back with more fervor than Antony had kissed Cleopatra and he tore at Trunks’s dress, ripping it from his body easily. Trunks returned the favor and caressed all of Goten’s glorious body. A body that they had become one in together. Now they were becoming one in a different way and it felt incredible. It felt incredible before he’d known it was Goten, and finding out it had been Goten all along made Trunks pant and moan.

Goten kissed all over his shoulders and chest, gripped his back and his ass. He murmured, “You okay, beautiful? Your ass okay?”

“Yeah, oh gods, I feel fucking great!” Trunks cried and began pumping up and down more vigorously on Goten.

Goten whimpered with pleasure and held Trunks’s ass in his hands. He pleaded, “Fuck, Trunks, I’m so close. Please, Trunks, come for me. Come all over me. Fuck, you feel so good, beautiful. I can’t believe it’s you. This is the best day of my life.”

Trunks’s orgasm roared through his body hearing those words. He slammed himself down on Goten, taking Goten as deeply in his body as he could. He wanted Goten to come so deep inside him. He wanted to feel every hot pulse. He held Goten’s face and kissed him and against all sense and reason, cried out, “Come in me, baby! Come inside me, Ten. I love you so much, please, I need you inside me!” Trunks knew it was dumb to say it, but he couldn’t help himself. 

In the moonlight that had revealed who they really were, he saw Goten’s eyes searching his. Goten wailed as he came deep inside Trunks, “I love you too, Trunks. I always have. Oh fuck, I love you so much!”

Trunks collapsed against Goten, kissing frantically and he didn’t even care that he was crying and it was probably fucking up his make-up. He held Goten’s face and cried happy tears and kissed his best friend, the man he’d loved since he understood there was more than one type of love. “Really? Ten? Do you mean it?”

“Of course I mean it! I would never say that if I didn’t mean it. I just…I’m in shock. I…” Goten stopped stammering and just kissed Trunks more, wrapped his big, powerful arms around Trunks, and held him.

When the moon dipped behind a cloud again, obscuring them in darkness, Goten laughed and kissed down his neck. “Cleopatra, you are hot as fuck. You’re the only one who’s ever made me briefly believe I could get over Trunks.”

“Same, Antony. Same. I love you, Ten. I…Sorry I was never brave enough to come out to you. How’d you hear about the party anyway?”

“Totally random, Valese talked to Marron several weeks ago because I guess Marron normally goes, but said she wasn’t, that she was bummed. Valese was pretty nice when I broke up with her, I…I told her that I’d been struggling, but that I’d come to terms with being gay. She said she’d wondered for a while. Then she told me maybe I should go to this thing and see if I really _was_ and if not maybe she and I could talk more. She has a friend who works at the theater downtown and he got me all dressed and made up. I feel bad that I ruined the tunic…”

“I’ll pay for it. I’m the asshole who ripped it. Marron got me all ready. I came out to her a few months ago, but I didn’t tell her that I think I’m maybe just…Gotensexual.”

Goten laughed and kissed Trunks. Trunks said, “Hey, since we both fucked up our clothes beyond wearability, you want to fly back to my place and stay?”

Goten gathered all their tattered costume bits and grinned so broadly that Trunks could see it even when the moon was hiding. He said, “Hell yeah, that sounds perfect. I need to find a new place, Valese wanted to keep our place and find a roommate. I’ve been crashing with a buddy from work, but I think he’s ready to be rid of me.”

Trunks felt stupid, but he thought about Antony and Cleopatra, their whirlwind romance, and he said, “Um, at the risk of sounding crazier than the rest of this night, you wanna just move in with me? My place has plenty of space and we’ve always been—“

Goten clobbered him with a tackling kiss and rose into the air holding Trunks on top of him. “Yeah, oh my gods, Trunks, this is like a dream come true!”

“You know what we should do when we get home?”

Goten looked shy and when the moonlight broke through the clouds again, Trunks could see he was blushing. Goten whispered, “I love that you just slide into calling it home like…like…like we’re a couple.”

“Aren’t we?” Trunks said, his stomach dropping back down the ground below.

“Yeah, definitely, if that’s what you want? It’s what I’ve wanted since I was like ten, so yeah, holy shit!” Goten said and corkscrewed through the air laughing. 

“Let’s watch the old school Cleopatra movie, you know the one with Elizabeth Taylor?”

Goten grinned and kissed Trunks. He said, “As long as you don’t mind if I get distracted by _my_ Cleopatra.”

“I hope you do. Let’s just avoid snakes for a while, because tonight felt like fate, didn’t it?”

“Yeah. It was like I fell in love with you again. I always thought you’d be hot in drag,” Goten purred and kissed him more. Goten kissed Trunks all the way home. Their home.


	2. Second Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta struggles to come to terms with Bulma's death. He decides to leave Earth to gather the dragon balls on New Namek where Broly has taken up guardianship of the dragon balls. Set well past the events of Super.

After Bulma’s death, Vegeta tried to stay on Earth. His children were there, after all, and the so-called friends he’d developed. But his children were busy, they had their own lives. Vegeta’s friends were busy too. They had things beyond each other. They craved things beside fighting. Vegeta never had though. He craved Bulma, of course, but once she was gone, every day on Earth became a trial.

He and Trunks devised an intergalactic communication device similar to the scouters Vegeta had used in Frieza’s army, but thankfully he didn’t have to wear it on his face. It had a texting option. Vegeta was okay about texting, but terrible on the phone. Trunks and Bulla and his grandchildren saw him off. Like Kakarot carting Cell off to kill King Kai, Vegeta gave them a nod, a smirk, and touched his fingers to his forehead.

He didn’t tell anyone where he was going because he found it a little embarrassing, if he was being honest with himself. It had been two years since Bulma’s death and Vegeta was lonely. Bulma was the only non-warrior Vegeta had ever been with. He’d been with other women, but never the sort of woman who couldn’t at least make an effort at fucking him up. Vegeta wouldn’t luck into another non-warrior he found tolerable, Bulma was the stunning exception to his taste.

About a year earlier, Vegeta had learned (as casually as he could manage) through Dende that Broly had somehow wound up on New Namek working as a sort of dragon ball bodyguard. Vegeta knew it was absurd to go there. But…aside from the clown, Broly was the only Saiyan left in the universe. And Vegeta had other reasons for going to New Namek anyway. Dragon ball reasons.

It wasn’t even a little surprising that when Vegeta materialized next to Broly, before he could even get a word out, Broly punched him in the face. Vegeta was too slow—he’d been lax on his training since Bulma died. Vegeta’s lip split, but his teeth held, thanks to his resilient Saiyan jaw. Blood poured out of the split and dribbled down his chin.

“You fucking bastard, why did you hit me?!” Vegeta snarled as he got his guard up and prepared to rumble with Broly if the big man wouldn’t settle down. They’d sparred now and again since their little Frieza-induced spat on Earth. More often since Bulma had died.

“Oh, hey, ‘Geta! I didn’t know it was you! I just felt a powerful body and you know me, punch first, ask questions later. You okay? Surely the Prince of All Saiyans isn’t hurt from one little hit from Broly?” Broly said with a huge, shit-eating grin.

Vegeta hated how charming he found Broly as he’d mellowed after Paragus’s death. A smile tried to creep onto Vegeta’s face too, but he fought and won. The big brute wouldn’t make Vegeta smile that easily. “Of course I’m not hurt!” Vegeta snapped. He dabbed at his lip, stained his glove red, and licked the remainder off his chin. The coppery taste of blood did something to the part of Vegeta that had never been fully domesticated by life on Earth. The part of Vegeta that was feral and wild and all warrior. It howled, _More!_

“Not yet, anyway, huh?” Broly said, bouncing on his toes a little, raising his fists, “You come to play?”

“What!? No! I—“ Vegeta stalled out. He came for the dragon balls. Which was bullshit. He could have used the dragon balls on Earth. Would Broly brawl with him if he tried to gather them without asking? “I don’t _play_! I’m grown-ass man, for fuck’s sake.”

“Well, you’re a man, ‘Geta, but I don’t know about _grown_ , since you’re very small. Maybe your ass has grown?” Broly said, smirking, and leaned to look at Vegeta’s backside. “No, it looks the same as always. I hope it doesn’t grow, it’s just right.”

“What’s that supposed to mean!?” Vegeta screeched. Why was Broly talking about Vegeta’s ass? Things were already spiraling. Fear crept into Vegeta’s bones. The fear of the things he’d tried to bury. The things that might surface if he didn’t just get the dragon balls, do his business, and get off New Namek. But to go where? That was his real fear. There wasn’t a place in the universe that Vegeta could imagine going to, not even back to Earth. Especially not back to Earth. Too many memories there. Too much grief, the only thing worse than fear.

“You look like you’re going to scream, ‘Geta. Can’t a guy compliment your ass without you having a fucking meltdown?” Broly said and slapped Vegeta’s shoulder the way Bulma used to when she teased him. Flirtatiously. Vegeta stared at his shoulder as though he would see a message left behind, the true meaning of the swat.

“I’m not having a godsdamned meltdown, Broly. I just…I’m here to use the dragon balls. Am I going to have to take you out to do so?”

“What for, ‘Geta? Why don’t you use the Earth ones?” Broly said and eyeballed Vegeta in a way that made the fear louder.

Vegeta looked away. He crossed his arms. Forty years, he’d been with Bulma. He was almost seventy-five. He didn’t look a day over 25, and he wouldn’t until the last year or so of his life, when he would decline rapidly, die quickly. But that was years away. Fifty or sixty if he was a short-lived Saiyan. Another seventy-five to a hundred more likely.

Vegeta mumbled, “I came…to visit.”

“To visit New Namek? Why? It’s a shit-hole. But they do have a good drug here. But you couldn’t handle it. It would make you crazy. You’d have…hmm…how to say it in this tongue? A bad trip? A bad adventure?” Broly seemed to consider his verbiage more. Broly, in his sweet way that Vegeta was ashamed to admit first drew his notice, grinned more broadly and said, “Wait, did you come to visit _me_?”

“Yes, you big fucking galoot. Of course I didn’t come to visit New Namek. Good gods, what a sad day that would be.”

Broly bopped his hip against Vegeta and said, “Yeah, you want to get high? See if you can avoid a bad adventure by relaxing first instead of being your usual high-strung Prince of All Anxiety, ‘Geta?”

“Let’s get the dragon balls, then we’ll talk about you drugging me,” Vegeta said and snorted, “Prince of All Anxiety. More like Slave to All Anxiety.”

Broly chortled and led Vegeta around the planet gathering the dragon balls. It felt déjà vu to be gathering the Namekian dragon balls, except this time the elders happily handed them over to Vegeta and prattled on about Kakarot, Vegeta’s very best good chum. It was all Vegeta could do not to vomit.

Vegeta would never truly escape that man’s shadow. Even marriage to Bulma meant that he was married to Kakarot’s best friend. That his wife’s best friend was not Vegeta, but Kakarot.It rankled, even after her death, even when he ached he missed her so much, that Bulma was Vegeta’s best friend, but not the other way around.

As Vegeta and Broly arranged the dragon balls on the ground, and met each other’s eyes, Vegeta felt a flutter of hope underneath his fear. Maybe there was yet one place he might not live in Kakarot’s shadow, enduring his joviality and stupidity in turns, and always seeming dour and cold in comparison to that indiscriminate wanker. Kakarot was always an irritating amalgam of friendliness and raw power formulated specifically to get on Vegeta’s nerves while delighting seemingly every other being in the universe.

“So, what’s the big wish, my tiny, taut friend?” Broly said.

Vegeta glared. “I’m not _tiny_ , you are simply oversized.”

“I’m just the right size. You’re tiny!” Broly said, “You too scared to tell me your wish? You’ll have to, you know, I know you don’t speak Namekian. Unless you and Piccolo have been spending a bit more time together since Bulma passed?” Broly wiggled his eyebrows.

“No, good gods, I should have gagged you and asked Esca to help me. I have not been spending time with the Namek. Besides he’s mated to Dende, they’ve been together for years.”

“Oh, Vegeta, so scandalous. I only meant as pals. Where is your mind at that you immediately assume I meant _fucking_ the Namek?” Broly’s smile was smug. Broly clearly enjoyed baiting Vegeta this way.

“Of course I’m thinking about _fucking,_ Broly. I haven’t done any fucking in over two years, it’s practically all consuming,” Vegeta snapped without thinking about it because it was just so true. And now it was out there where Broly could examine it. Vegeta loathed being himself at times.

Broly raised a single eyebrow and said, “All-consuming, hmm? Maybe you won’t have such a bad time with ajisa.”

“I want to make my damned wish, are you helping or not?”

“‘Geta, I can’t speak your wish for you in Namekian if you don’t tell me what your fucking wish _is_.”

“You keep…” Vegeta growled with irritation. When he’d made this decision, he envisioned it going a certain way. That was the problem with having thoughts and plans and dreams and hopes, they never fucking worked out and then he was always left feeling like a fucking idiot. A disappointed fucking idiot. Vegeta said, “I want my tail back, damnit! I’m sick of my life without my tail and it made sense not to have it on Earth, but I’m done with Earth. I want to be a real Saiyan again instead of a fucking domesticated house-Saiyan.”

Broly’s eyes lit up. They glittered with something Vegeta had never seen before. Now the fear was alive in Vegeta, gobbling up his hope, and shitting out worries. Broly said the words and Porunga appeared. Broly made what Vegeta assumed was Vegeta’s wish, but for all he knew, Broly could be wishing that Vegeta be turned into a godsdamned pumpkin with a little black flame-tuft of hair.

That anxiety, at least, was unfounded. Vegeta felt the hot tingling nerves of his tail scar turn into real nerves again. No more phantom tail. No more missing his fifth limb. No more unsatisfying…Well. Maybe none at all. Not that things with Bulma were unsatisfying. The woman was fantastic in bed, but he had always felt his tail’s absence in the way that he imagined he would miss a single testicle: it certainly wasn’t necessary for good sex, but it was just nice to have.

“Godsdamn, ‘Geta, what a great fucking idea! You know, I bet Kakarot is shitting his pants right now!”

“What!?” Vegeta screamed and saw Broly’s tail was back too. It lashed behind him with frisky energy. Vegeta swallowed hard and said, “How did you word the wish?”

“I asked that all full-blooded Saiyans have their tails restored.”

“Why would you do that?” Vegeta asked and clenched his hands in front of himself, as if he were reaching for some way to undo Broly’s blundered wish.

“It’s not fair that you should get your tail but not poor Broly, ‘Geta!” Broly said and harrumphed as he crossed his arms over his big, scarred, bare chest.

“Shit! Are there moons on New Namek?”

“No, sadly, no moons,” Broly said and slumped.

“Thank the gods, Broly, you would destroy the planet as an Oozaru.”

Broly’s pupils dilated and when he grinned now, Vegeta saw his fangs, and Broly said, “You’d have to fight me, ‘Geta. You’d have to…how do you say…subdue me? Make me submit? Yeah? Dominate me?” Broly’s eyes flitted up and down Vegeta’s body.

The scent of Broly’s tail reached him and the wild and feral side of Vegeta howled for blood. For more than blood. Vegeta said, his breath coming faster, “What should we use for our other two wishes?”

“We can save them, yeah? Getting my tail is enough excitement for one day,” Broly said, admiring his tail as it whipped back and forth, but his eyes snapped up to Vegeta’s and he continued, his voice lower, rougher, “Well, almost enough.”

Vegeta searched his heart. Could he do this? Would she be angry? He wished he’d thought to ask her before she died. Would she want him to move on? He tried to remember how things went in the Earth movies, but he couldn’t. Surely she would understand that he had a whole lifetime still ahead of him. Did Bulma love him enough that she wouldn’t want him to be lonely for the rest of his long life?

Vegeta pulled out the intergalactic phone and texted Trunks. Trunks would know.

_V: Would Bulma want me to move on?_

_T: You mean…romantically?_

_V: Well, whatever the Saiyan version of that is. Yes._

_T: Yeah, of course. She loved you. She wanted you to be happy._

_V: I don’t know how to be happy without her._

_T: If you have someone who might help, go for it._

_V: Okay._

Vegeta looked up. He stuffed the thing back in his pocket. He hoped it was durable. “Fight or drugs first?”

“They aren’t fighting sort of drugs, ‘Geta. Why is always fighting with you? What do you fear that you’re always fighting?” Broly dismissed Porunga with a bow.

“You just told me to…to…to…” Vegeta trailed off. Why was he dissembling? He knew exactly what he wanted. He knew exactly what Broly meant, that he hadn’t been talking about fighting at all.

In a flash, Broly had Vegeta pinned against the trunk of a massive tree. “What did I tell you to do, ‘Geta?”

Fear unlike any Vegeta had ever known coursed through him. As a soldier, he’d fucked plenty of people, but never cared a bit for any of them. The only person he’d loved involved no risk. Bulma loved him, pursued him so relentlessly that he could safely love her in return. Her affection was so blatant and open and in his face. By the time he succumbed, he had no fear of rejection. No fear that she would laugh at him and point out how unworthy he was, even though he was unworthy of her all along.

“Hmm, ‘Geta? What are you afraid of?” Broly purred and held Vegeta’s hands tightly over his head.

Vegeta took a deep breath to face his fear, lunged forward, and kissed Broly with bloodied lips. Vegeta’s heart skittered around in his chest like a rat on cocaine. Vegeta assumed he would drop dead of heart failure before he ever registered Broly’s response.

Broly pressed their bodies together, freed Vegeta’d hands, and cupped Vegeta’s face in his big, calloused hands. The kiss lingered. All the myriad sensations startled Vegeta, having not kissed anyone besides Bulma in decades. He’d forgotten the magic of a first kiss. Broly was shockingly tender, his tongue gently running along Vegeta’s upper lip before dipping inside his mouth. It darted back out and Broly took Vegeta’s lower lip between his and pulled back just enough to say, “About fucking time…”

The lust and affection Vegeta had struggled with recently broke free of their confines and howled for what they wanted. Howled for more. Howled for Broly. Vegeta kissed Broly roughly. Hungrily. Bloodily. Broly purred, “You taste excellent, ‘Geta,” and the tip of his tongue slid up the split, lapped at the blood.

“Oh? Is that why you decked me the second I showed up? To taste my blood?” Vegeta said and smirked, finally regaining himself enough to speak. To feign confidence that he didn’t have.

“Nah, I did that because it’s so easy,” Broly teased. Vegeta wondered if Broly _did_ want to be subdued.

Vegeta leaned in to kiss Broly more. He plunged his tongue into Broly’s mouth and his fingers into Broly’s dark hair. Broly trailed a hand down onto Vegeta’s hip and pulled their cocks together. Vegeta wrapped his legs around Broly’s waist and flipped him, pinned him, and used his knees to hold Broly’s legs spread wide. “I think you’re trying to rile me up, Broly,” Vegeta murmured.

“Also easy to do, ‘Geta,” Broly whispered and lifted his head to kiss Vegeta more. Broly’s dick brushed Vegeta’s as he bucked his hips up despite Vegeta’s hold. Broly continued, “You feel riled up already.”

Vegeta’s fear didn’t go away as he’d hoped it would once he’d made the first move. But it retreated some. This was better than nothing, even if this was all it was. Broly wrestled and tumbled them, so he was on top of Vegeta. Broly always assumed his size gave him an advantage when wrestling and grappling, but that was something the Earthlings had actually taught Vegeta in combat. The compact human wrestlers often folded their larger opponents into pretzels easily because there was no leverage to be used against the smaller party.

Vegeta utilized some of those tricks now and Broly found himself face down in the dirt, his hands pinned between his shoulder blades and one leg bent at a near-breaking angle between Vegeta’s thighs. Broly struggled and Vegeta put pressure on the leg until Broly howled like an injured dog. “I had to do it, Broly, it was just so _easy_ ,” Vegeta crooned.

Broly relaxed. Vegeta could almost hear him plotting his next move. Vegeta liked this game. It had been such a long time since he’d had this kind of foreplay. Vegeta was panting, not from exertion, but from excitement. Broly’s tail lashed right next to Vegeta. It was happy and excited too.

Broly tried various methods of breaking Vegeta’s hold, but failed time and again. The larger man was clearly getting frustrated at the same time as he was getting aroused. His scent was overwhelming now and Vegeta snuffled it up like a pig at a fine patch of truffles. He purred, “Ready to behave, Broly?”

“Nah, you still haven’t even made me bleed, ‘Geta. Is it really a fight if both parties aren’t bleeding?”

Broly’s psychological warfare was excellent. Vegeta used one hand to grab a handful of Broly’s hair. Broly realized too late what Vegeta was doing and didn’t fight back in time. Vegeta slammed his cute face right into the hardscrabble.

“Fuck! ‘Geta! You fucking prick!” Broly snarled, his voice nasal as his nose filled with blood. It poured out of his nostrils onto the ground.

“Who’s bleeding now, you cocky asshole?” Vegeta said merrily. There was no smell sweeter to Vegeta than blood when he had a hard-on. Bulma called it a kink. Vegeta called it being Saiyan.

Broly bucked Vegeta off himself like a bull as he powered up more. Vegeta smacked into a tree. It knocked the wind out of him. He gritted his teeth and launched breathlessly back at Broly. They fought in earnest now, both landing kicks and punches. They battered one another. Neither stopped grinning. They both bled freely now.

Broly sent Vegeta flying with a nasty surprise round-house kick, but before Vegeta could slow himself, Broly was on him. Broly kissed him as he ripped Vegeta’s shirt to tatters. They snarled and nipped and bit at each other, barely recognizable as kissing, but more satisfying for the bloodthirsty Saiyan part of Vegeta. Broly thrust his hand down the front of Vegeta’s pants and gripped his cock, jerking it roughly a couple times before using his thumb to smear pre-cum over Vegeta’s head.

“Broly…” Vegeta moaned. So easily defeated.

“Are you done fighting it yet, ‘Geta?” Broly growled and kissed Vegeta. A real kiss. A deep, sweet kiss. “You don’t have to fight all the time, Vegeta,” Broly breathed, “You need me to get you high so you can just let yourself _be_?”

“I…” Vegeta tried to speak, but Broly’s hand moved relentlessly. “Oh gods, please…”

“Please, what, ‘Geta?” Broly murmured and kissed him more.

“I…I want you…” Vegeta gasped out, pushing Broly’s hand away and tearing Broly’s pants off in a blink.

Vegeta slammed Broly into the ground, leaving a crater. He kissed him furiously, hungrily, and it was his turn to make Broly moan. He spit on his fingers and circled the wetness on Broly’s opening. Broly kicked at Vegeta’s pants before he spread his own wider and rolled his hips.

But Broly was still winning. His ass relaxed and Vegeta breathed, “Oh fuck…” and plunged his spit-slick middle finger inside Broly.

Broly panted and pulled his legs up alongside his ribcage. “‘Geta, stop fucking teasing me,” Broly hissed.

Vegeta slammed his finger into Broly’s prostate until his cock dripped, then yanked it free. Broly’s eyes snapped open and he attacked Vegeta. They mauled each other a while longer until Vegeta’s prick throbbed he was so eager. Broly flew at him, but Vegeta flattened his hand and whipped it at Broly. A chi bind flew around his wrist and pinned him against another big tree.

Broly’s head swung to see what had gotten him. His eyes went wide and flew back to Vegeta, who winged another that locked Broly’s other hand stretched wide, leaving him immobilized. Broly grumbled, “What the fuck, ‘Geta!?” and Vegeta flicked out three more: one around Broly’s neck, where his collar used to control him, and one around each ankle. Vegeta shifted each until Broly was sprawled into a big, sexy starfish.

Vegeta floated up to his captive, catching his breath. He teased Broly’s lips. The chi collar prevented Broly from deepening the kiss. He strained against it. Vegeta wondered if it was too much, but Broly was clearly trying to keep a smile at bay. Broly tightened his ass to brush his cock against Vegeta. “Nasty trick, ‘Geta. Almost as if you don’t want to fight at all,” Broly said and one of his fangs glinted in the reddish light of the setting first sun.

Vegeta kissed him back against the tree trunk, holding him back even more by grabbing a fistful of Broly’s hair. Vegeta nipped at Broly’s lips and purred, “I don’t think you want to fight either. But I do think you want me to beat you a little.”

“Only a little?” Broly teased and his neck muscles bulged as he lunged to try to kiss Vegeta.

Vegeta twisted Broly’s nipple and kissed him again, releasing his hair so he could hold their cocks together. He hadn’t bound Broly tight enough to prevent any hip movement and Vegeta groaned. He was glad. It felt so good to fuck against Broly’s beautiful, thick prick. “Broly…gods…” Vegeta moaned. His throat tightened. It felt so treacherous to have feelings for someone else, no matter that Bulma was dead and gone.

Vegeta tried to remember that Bulma always, from the very beginning, even when he was being a complete fucking asshole, only wanted Vegeta to be happy. Bulma loved Vegeta’s happiness and thought he deserved it, which Vegeta had never managed himself.

“You okay, ‘Geta?” Broly said, his eyes soft and his brows scrunched together in concern. How had Vegeta found someone else who could tolerate him? Who also seemed concerned with Vegeta’s happiness?

Vegeta leaned in and kissed Broly tenderly, pressed their foreheads together, and took a shaky breath. Vegeta didn’t know what to say.

Broly whispered, “Hey, ‘Geta, it’s okay if you’re not ready. I know you still miss her. You’ll always miss her.”

Vegeta, loathing himself for this constant weakness in his life, started to cry. He choked out, “I do…but…but mainly I feel like shit that…that I don’t. I spend my days thinking of you. Missing you. Wanting to be here. Shouldn’t I still miss her? Shouldn’t I be…be…be mourning her still?”

“What? No. Gods, she didn’t train you up at all, did she. Fuck. I thought I’d have less work for myself thanks to her groundwork.”

“What?” Vegeta said, utterly baffled.

“‘Geta,” Broly whispered and kissed Vegeta’s mouth for a brief moment, “It’s not as though you’re forgetting her just because you don’t spend all your time _moping_. She would hate that, anyway. But it’s also okay if you’re not ready…for anything else.”

“You fool, that’s not what I’m telling you. I’m telling you I am ready, but that…that…that I’m a fucking disaster. I’ve always _been_ a disaster and I—“

“Why are you telling me this? This I know. I love you anyway, ‘Geta, fucking hot mess that you are,” Broly said and grinned at Vegeta.

Vegeta gaped. Broly loved him back? Even though Vegeta had been fumbling around trying _not_ to love Broly for the past year? Vegeta spluttered, “I…but…you…I…”

“You love me too, yeah?” Broly said with the Saiyan pride and confidence Vegeta claimed to have. But all Vegeta had ever had was fear and terror so thick in his blood that he’d howled about his Saiyan pride to cover his cowardice. He’d hidden behind his so-called Saiyan pride to avoid feeling things, to avoid looking at himself too closely, to avoid the danger of loving people. People who might love him back.

Vegeta breathed, “Yes…” and bent to kiss Broly tenderly. He flicked his wrist so all five chi bands evaporated and Broly wrapped Vegeta in his big arms.

“I know you’re not so good at feelings, ‘Geta,” Broly murmured. Vegeta floated up to kiss his tall friend and maybe more than a friend, more easily. Broly splayed his hand across Vegeta’s lower back and his fingertips brushed the top of Vegeta’s ass. And his tail. Vegeta almost forgot that his tail was back.

Vegeta trailed his fingers along Broly’s jaw. Vegeta’s tail danced out beside him, flicking back and forth happily. Broly’s lashed too, but they didn’t touch, not yet. Vegeta murmured, “You want me to tie you up again?”

“I just want you to fuck me already,” Broly said and smiled against Vegeta’s lips.

Vegeta spit on his fingers again as he laid Broly down in a patch of the tufty grass that dotted this region of New Namek. Broly didn’t stop kissing and caressing Vegeta as Vegeta eased two fingers inside him, stretching him. Broly spit in his hand and started stroking Vegeta’s cock, adding more and more spit.

Broly chuckled and said, “Today spit is okay, but next time maybe we go back to my place and use lube, yeah?”

“We can go now if you want? I can IT us there,” Vegeta said. He didn’t want to hurt Broly. Not like that.

“Nah, I want you to fuck me right here under the setting sun, ‘Geta, and I’ve waited long enough. It’s not my fault you’re always denying your feelings,” Broly said. He slicked Vegeta’s prick with one more load of spit and said, “Stop denying us, yeah?”

Vegeta shifted his body between Broly’s legs and lined his cock up with Broly’s pucker. He inched inside Broly, both of them gasping, and Vegeta feared for a moment that he would cry because it felt so fucking good. It had been so long since he’d had sex. But to get to have it at long last with someone he cared about, someone he loved, was perfect. Once he plunged fully inside Broly, he whispered, “I do love you. I’m sorry I’m…slow.”

“You are. You should do more training, ‘Geta,” Broly breathed and his big hands palmed Vegeta’s ass. “‘Geta, gods, your cock feels good. You…you want to tail-twine?”

Vegeta’s eyes filled again, but he wasn’t ashamed this time. They were happy tears. He smirked and rocked into Broly until his cock slammed into Broly’s prostate. Broly moaned with pleasure and spread his legs wider. His eyes met Vegeta’s as he curled up to kiss him. Vegeta purred, “Yes. Yes. Yes. I want to be yours, Broly. I’m glad you wanted your tail back too.”

Broly’s tail coiled around Vegeta’s and they howled together and came. Vegeta’s body flooded with the pleasure of his orgasm, but also the entirely novel sensation of mating, truly mating, with another Saiyan. Broly bit Vegeta’s shoulder hard, his sharp teeth cutting right through the skin, and Vegeta’s blood poured into Broly’s mouth. Vegeta kissed over Broly’s trapezius until he found the exact spot on Broly that Broly had bitten him. Vegeta licked it, sucked it, teased it.

Broly growled, “Don’t fuck with me, you little monster, or I’ll fuck you up.”

“Mmm…you wish you _could_ fuck me up,” Vegeta said and bit Broly’s muscle hard. Broly’s blood mingled with the dry remains of his and they came again, almost as if the first orgasm had never stopped. Their tails twisted together even tighter. It felt incredible. Vegeta’s tail’s nerves weren’t exactly like his cock’s, but they were similar enough that he couldn’t stop crying out as their tails slinked up and down each other.

Broly stopped biting him, and turned Vegeta’s bloodied mouth to his own. They kissed hungrily and Vegeta liked tasting his own blood on Broly’s lips. Broly growled, “Fuck me rough, ‘Geta!”

Vegeta rolled Broly’s hips up so he could pound down into Broly. He gripped the back of Broly’s thighs and jackhammered down into him as Broly grabbed the back of Vegeta’s knees to brace him and keep them from rebounding apart from the force of Vegeta’s thrusts.

“Fucking gods, my mate, your ass feels incredible!” Vegeta cried.

Broly groaned and panted beneath Vegeta. Vegeta loved having the larger Saiyan at his mercy, on his cock, begging for him. He just loved Broly. Vegeta accepted it. He let himself feel what he’d been trying to stifle from the moment his grief over losing Bulma was overshadowed by his affection for Broly. The affection gained new depth every time they spent a day brawling and bantering, sometimes hunting and gathering a meal together in the evening, reminding Vegeta of his Saiyan-ness. His lost self-sufficiency. It felt good to love Broly, and that made Vegeta feel guilty. Loving Bulma had felt good too, but very different.

Broly gasped, “Stay with me, ‘Geta,” and curled up, put his beautiful muscles and flexibility to use to kiss Vegeta deeply.

“Really?” Vegeta asked, surprised and delighted, a big stupid smile spreading on his face.

Broly looked briefly confused. Vegeta’s fear returned. He must’ve misunderstood Broly. But Broly said, panting, “I meant mentally, but the other way too, yeah? You’ll stay this time? Not flee back to Earth to avoid your Broly?”

Vegeta slapped Broly’s ass and smirked. Vegeta growled, “I wasn’t _fleeing_.”

“The hell you weren’t,” Broly said and laughed, “but I don’t want to argue, ‘Geta. I want you to fuck me, and take me home, and fuck me again. Then I want you to stay with me. Eat dinner with me like we’re a real couple, and sleep in my arms. I suppose I could try to sleep in your arms, your teeny, tiny arms.”

Vegeta spanked Broly again and picked up the pace of his thrusting as he smirked down at his new mate. “Not all tiny, am I?”

“No, not all, thank goodness. If you’re going to fuck my big ass, you better have the cock necessary to do the job properly.”

Vegeta squeezed Broly’s firm, full ass and said, “And am I doing the job properly, my mate?”

“Yeah, ‘Geta. Your prick feels fucking perfect. So perfect that I want you to come with me…” Broly said.

They stretched their necks as Vegeta drove into Broly hard and fast. Broly cried out against Vegeta’s mouth and splattered their necks and chins with his giz. The way his ass twitched and seized sent Vegeta’s climax rippling through him, and it was powerful enough just from fucking his mate so well, but their tails rubbed up and down each other, and Vegeta roared. It felt so right. All his doubts vanished as he spent himself deep inside his big, powerful mate, and they kissed more as Vegeta slowed himself.

Vegeta lowered Broly’s hips back into the grass. He eased his cock slowly out of Broly’s ass, which still trembled. “Fuck, ‘Geta, I’m so glad you finally made up your mind.”

“Gods, me too, that was amazing,” Vegeta purred and flopped on Broly’s chest, slipping in the slick of cum covering his skin. They both chuckled, but stayed as they were. They adjusted to watch the few minutes of stars before the second sun would blaze over the southern horizon and light the sky again.

Broly squeezed him and kissed his temple. Vegeta smiled when the new dawn came in short order. Vegeta lucked into this, into finding his own second sun, a new light to shine on him and pull him out of darkness after his first sun had set.


	3. A Lone Plot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta intercepts a piece of Bulma's mail and makes a plan.

Vegeta hated surprises. He hated them even more when they weren’t misguided, human attempts at “fun.” The previous year, for his arbitrarily selected “birthday,” the damned woman had thrown a surprise party. Vegeta’s instantaneous reaction when people startled him was to blast them. That year had been a real waste of dragon balls.

This surprise was worse than accidentally killing multiple people at a celebration for how old he’d become. Vegeta didn’t really feel bad about that except Panchy because that woman made so much delicious food. Vegeta would kill Panchy all over to make the reality of what he was holding in his hands go away. Incinerating the paper itself would make no difference. The horrible truth it embodied wouldn’t change.

It was an invoice, already paid, sent as a record of the transaction for a lone plot in the largest cemetery in West City. Humans paid for holes in which to dispose of their weak, frail bodies. Expensive holes, apparently. The same invoice also requested verification about the engraving on the headstone, which had already been selected.

The engraving would read:

Bulma Briefs

Inventor. Mother. Wife.

733-

Vegeta almost threw up. Was Bulma ill? Why would she do this? Vegeta’s heart twisted. It hurt more than when Frieza ended him all those years ago. Bulma wasn’t _that_ old, was she? Vegeta truly had no idea. Every year, her birthday came around and he told her to buy herself something she wanted and she did. Vegeta didn’t have money. He didn’t _shop_. The horror of being surrounded by so many humans pushed him back toward his former career of depopulating planets.

This was unacceptable. Bulma could not die. Vegeta wouldn’t allow it. He’d already discovered, after all the nonsense on Namek with Frieza, that Dende had constructed his dragon balls in such a way that immortality wasn’t an option using the dragon balls. So that wouldn’t work. Vegeta stared at the harbinger of doom in his hands and thought.

Bulma came into the kitchen from her lab and wrapped her arms around his chest from behind. He was shirtless from training. She pinched his nipples and kissed the nape of his neck.

He put the invoice facedown on the counter. He needed to think before he said anything to his wife. He growled, “Playing with fire, woman…”

“Maybe I’m cold,” she said and slid one hand over the ridges of his ab muscles and into his shorts.

“Oh? Shall I warm you?” he said, looking over his shoulder with a smirk, “Go turn up the heat? Get you a sweater?”

She nipped his earlobe and breathed, “Or you could just fuck me on the counter?”

Vegeta’s cock went from considering sex to rigid and ready with that question. He spun in her arms and cupped her face in his hands as he kissed her deeply. He groped her ass with his other hand, squeezing the flesh that had softened over the years, sagged even, but was no less appealing to him. Bulma could be saggy and wrinkled and toothless and white-haired and he would love her no less, want her no less. She was his mate. He couldn’t bear the thought of life without her. He barely made it through her business trips.

Vegeta hiked her up on his hips and kissed down her neck. He said, “To fuck you on the counter I’d have to get rid of these pants, and then you might be even colder.”

“You could just push them down and bend me over, honey,” she said, letting her head fall back to expose her throat for him. Bulma knew him well. She knew he loved her scent here, and he kissed and sniffed all the way down to her mating mark, pink and shiny and scarred where her neck met her shoulder. He bit it softly, not to break skin. She moaned.

Vegeta set her down and moved behind her body. He kissed and sucked her mark more as his hands snuck up under her shirt. Vegeta generally didn’t notice the signs of Bulma’s aging, but now that he’d seen that she had a fucking cemetery plot, it was like the signs were everywhere. Her breasts still filled his hands perfectly and he brushed his fingertips over her nipples until they were straining against the thin, silky fabric of her bra. She was softer after nursing their children, and he liked that. He liked the reminder that she had born him heirs. Two perfect heirs with their mother’s eyes and intelligence and their father’s strength and perseverance.

He rocked his hard cock against her ass and nibbled her earlobe. He murmured, “Do you know what you do to me woman? Even after all these years? How badly I need you? Every day?”

Bulma’s ass pushed back against him and he pinched her nipples. She gasped, “Gods, Vegeta, I need you too. I couldn’t get any work done this morning because I kept thinking about the other night.”

“You did seem to enjoy when I licked your pussy until you couldn’t stop screaming. You are fucking delicious, Bulma,” Vegeta growled. His hand caressed down her belly and unsnapped and unzipped her pants, shoved them down. He pulled his prick out.

“Fuck, Vegeta, I love it when you go down on me. But that’s not what I need now. I need you inside me,” she gasped.

He snuck his hand inside her bra to touch her nipple without interference. His other hand smeared his pre-cum around his head before reaching around to part her lips. He found her clit and pulsed his fingers on it, softly at first, harder as she moaned and panted and bucked back toward him.

He pushed his fingers past her clit into her folds and found her slippery, ready. He murmured against her ear, “You want my cock, woman?”

“Gods, Vegeta, I want to come on your dick. Keep playing with my clit while you fuck me deep,” she breathed.

Vegeta loved how forward she was, how delightfully vulgar, and that had never changed. He loved how she moaned for him, cursed for him, pleaded for him. He loved fucking his wife. Thirty-five years of fucking his wife had not slaked his lust for her. Another thirty-five wouldn’t either. Vegeta needed an eternity with Bulma.

He shifted their bodies into a familiar configuration. His children would have starved if they knew how often their parents fucked on every single surface in the kitchen. Once, just for fun, he had set Bulma on top of the fridge, floated up and fucked her. That inspired them to see if her ass could rest on the cold ledge of the fridge with the doors open to see if they could fuck that way. They could and they did. Vegeta imagined very few people had actually fucked in their fridge. Later, as Trunks and Bulla grew and they put in a walk-in fridge and freezer to house the enormous amount of food required to feed three Saiyans, he and Bulma had fucked in each of those too.

Bulma put her elbows on the counter and pushed her ass out. He kept his fingers on her clit and used his other hand to open her up as he pushed inside her. That wet heat never failed to make Vegeta tremble and groan. Gods, living without the love of his life was not an option. Something had to be done.

Vegeta moved slowly and deeply at first until his whole cock was coated in her slickness so he could move faster. She was already twitching on him as he rubbed her clit in tight little circles. Every few thrusts he sent a little spark of chi into her clit and she cried out. The first time he tried chi play with her, she had slapped him, then kissed him, then begged for more. He loved her ferocity. Who else in the world would ever _slap_ Vegeta?

“Vegeta! Oh, gods, go super Saiyan, I need you to go deeper, please, honey!” Bulma pleaded, bashing back against his hips with as much force as her human body allowed.

Vegeta transformed, bathing his beautiful wife in golden light and making his prick swell to fill her even more, to reach every bit of pleasure inside her. Her pussy clenched and gripped him as she came and she screamed his name. She reached back to claw at his ass as he spent himself inside her. Nothing in Vegeta’s entire life felt as good as coming in his wife did every single time.

He pulled her up against his bare chest and kissed the side of her neck. “I love you,” he murmured in her ear. He debated confronting her about the invoice, about her mortality. Bulma, the past decade or so, had periods of despair about the fact that she aged as he stayed the same. Vegeta would have happily aged with her, but what he really wanted was to keep her with him, not lose part of his life to not have to live without her.

She sighed and said, “Gods, I love you too, honey. Thanks for giving me a mid-morning boost. I love having the kids out of the house so we don’t have to be even a little sneaky.”

“Indeed. I love having you whenever I want,” Vegeta said, squeezing her tightly against his body. He took a deep breath and continued, “Something came in the mail today that…that…that I feel we should discuss.”

“Yeah? Maybe you should take your dick out of me?”

Vegeta laughed. “If you insist.” Vegeta withdrew and they cleaned themselves before pulling their pants up.

“Walk with me, I have to pee,” Bulma said and he tailed her into the bathroom. “What’s wrong, honey? You look like you’re about to cry.”

“I am not! Well. Maybe. I don’t know. It depends. I…an invoice came today…” Vegeta waited to see if she if she would know what he was referring to and spare him the potentially tearful question.

“It’s not like you to worry about money, Vegeta. And completely unnecessary. You know that.”

Vegeta grumbled, “I am _not_ worried about money. I am worried about what you purchased.”

“Hey, mister, I make the money, I’ll spend it however the hell I want!” she said and finished peeing, flushed, and kissed his cheek. “We have plenty—“

“Godsdamnit, Bulma! Why did you buy a cemetery plot?! Are you ill?”

He expected her to comfort him. To tell him that it was a mistake. That it was just a precaution against time. That she just wanted that specific hole in the ground. But Bulma never lied to Vegeta.

“Oh. Shit. Those assholes. I told them not to send that here.”

“What?! You were trying to keep this from me? Why?” Vegeta squawked.

“Vegeta…you don’t handle it well that I’m going to die before you. You need to accept it, but you get so upset I try to shield you from it as much as I can,” she said and kissed him.

He broke the kiss and growled, “Of course I don’t handle it well! I can’t live without you!”

“Yes, you can. You’ll be fine. You even have your spaceship if you don’t want to stay on the Earth, but you should, because Trunks and Bulla are here. They’ll help you move forward.”

“Why are you speaking as if it’s imminent?!” Vegeta screeched. Tears flooded his eyes. He touched her face, held her cheek, and tipped her face to look into her beautiful turquoise eyes. “What aren’t you telling me? Bulma?”

“I…My last mammogram was not good, so they did a biopsy and it was bad. Really bad.”

“What does that mean? I don’t know what a mammogram is? Or a biopsy?” Vegeta said. The tears spilled down his cheek.

“I have stage four breast cancer. It was right on my chest wall, so when it metastasized, it got in my lungs. That’s why I’ve been…tired. Coughing.”

Vegeta’s vision darkened and his head swam. This could not be happening. He knew what cancer was. He’d seen it in movies and read about it in books. Humans were always dying from cancer. He choked out, “The dragon balls—“

“Vegeta, Goku used them last month…they won’t…they won’t be ready in time.”

“What?!” he cried. “No! What does that mean? Not ready in time?! In time for what?”

“Vegeta, honey, you’ll be okay. Of course it will be hard, but…I need you to be strong. Things are going to get bad the next few months so I need you to be steady. The oncologist said surgery and chemo might buy me a month or two at best, but that they would be a terrible few months. I’m going to live as happily as I can until the pain gets too bad, then…well…then I’ve got a plan.”

“How can you say that? No! We’ll find a way! What about Whis? Surely Whis can help? Or Dende? Can Dende heal you?”

“Whis won’t meddle like that, you know him better than that. And I talked to Dende. He was very sad, but said that healing magic only works on wounds, not illness.”

Vegeta lost it. Any composure he’d had fell apart and he yanked his wife into his arms and crushed her in a hug while he sobbed into her hair. She wrapped her arms around him and nuzzled his neck. “Shh…honey…shh…we have a little time.”

Vegeta held his wife. The love of his life. The only person who ever saw any good in Vegeta. He held her and wept and vowed to find a way to keep her. And if he couldn’t, he would follow her wherever her path led.

* * *

Vegeta knew that vampires were theoretically a legend whose main purpose seemed to be supplying parents with a fairly simple Halloween costumes. But Vegeta spent the hours when Bulma wasn’t with him searching out any grain of truth about the immortal blood-suckers. At last he had a lead and he flew to the remote villages where the rumors started, from what he could tell. The whole region was supposedly hostile to strangers and the few who survived spoke of dark creatures and witchcraft. Vegeta would be delighted to find either in the misty highland forest town.

Vegeta realized as he walked into the town that he felt no chi. It was dusk. Even though it seemed absurd, the stories all suggested that vampires at the very least hated sunlight, at most died in its presence. He wondered if Bulma would want a life without sunshine. A life in the shadows.

Vegeta waited, suppressing his own chi, hoping to fit in if the creatures could sense life-force. As dark fell, he saw slender, beautiful, pale people begin to slink into the streets socializing. Vegeta observed and listened for a long time before approaching one who seemed…lonely.

She eyeballed him hungrily and he knew his suppressed chi wasn’t fooling her. Body heat meant prey and Vegeta couldn’t suppress that. She had thick, shiny blonde hair, an angular face, and dark brown eyes. “I suppose you’ve come to be turned,” she said, her voice was lower than he expected and had a hypnotic quality to it. Like he could fall asleep if she just kept speaking.

“I don’t know. My wife…my wife is different than me. I’m not human, but she is. She’s dying. From cancer,” Vegeta’s voice started to break so he paused to take a deep breath, “If you turn her, would it cure her? Give her immortality?”

“It depends. It might let her live on, certainly, but the change preserves on exactly as they are. If she is ill already, she would live on in that state, possibly in pain and misery, forever. Or until she ended things. Or someone ended her. There is no true immortality, even for gods.”

Vegeta struggled with this news. How much was Bulma suffering? Bulma could be vocal and whiny at times, but she could also be completely stoic about other things. The fact that Vegeta hadn’t noticed how ill she was suggested that she was being stoic in this case, but it might also mean the real pain hadn’t set in just yet.

“You smell different than the humans,” she said, sniffing dramatically, “and I can tell that you would not be easy to kill. Not easy to taste. You spoke the truth that you're not one of them. Why do you wish to turn your wife?”

“Because she’s dying. I can't live without her and my kind live long lives. I would turn myself too, to be with her forever.”

“And would she enjoy this life? Skittering in the darkness? Life without sunshine? Without the taste of food? Hunting and preying on the weak in the night? You look like a predator, like you would fare well, but ask yourself if that is a life she would enjoy? Would it truly be living for her? Or would you just be using her, forcing her to exist to keep yourself happy?”

Vegeta, to his great shame and horror, burst into tears. Bulma was no hunter. Bulma would never sacrifice another for her own wellbeing, let alone an eternity of other humans. He spluttered, “Can…but…could…could she drink animals? We could have a farm…”

“No. One can survive that way to a certain extent. But it’s a terrible, thirsty existence. I can see in your eyes that you hoped it would be a blessing to be turned, but it’s not. It’s a curse.”

“You…you regret it?” Vegeta asked, trying to get his blubbering under control.

“Not enough to give myself to the sun, but I had no choice in the matter,” she said with a shrug.

“Someone attacked you?”

“In a manner of speaking. My lover drugged me. Brought me here. He didn’t want me to be able to go back to my husband. That was…oh…about six hundred years ago. He long ago gave himself to the sun. Immortality isn’t for the faint of heart.”

Vegeta said, “Yet…you are alive. You look healthy. If…if he had asked and…and…” Vegeta couldn’t bear Bulma’s death. This was the answer. This woman would help them.

“No. Never. I watched every person I knew die. I watched my children die. My grandchildren. My country. I watched the farm I grew up on burned to the ground in war. I watched my countrymen be slaughtered into extinction. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone. I’ve never turned a soul. I would give anything to go back and die a normal death before my children, before my husband. To be laid in a quiet grave for eternity instead of this hell on Earth.”

Vegeta stared at her, dumbfounded.

“Go home. Go home to your wife. Love her. Bury her. Let her be at peace.”

* * *

Vegeta suppressed his chi as he approached home, feeling that Trunks and Goten were there with their daughter, Velma, and Bulla and her current flavor of the month. He snuck close to where they were gathered on the patio. Vegeta heard them all laughing. How could they laugh when Bulma was _dying_?

He watched from the shadows for a while. His woman could work such witchcraft on everyone she came into contact with. No one could resist the magical pull of her humor and her brilliance and her fierce loyalty. How such a woman had ever fallen in love with him was still a fucking mystery to Vegeta. He had never dared to question the universe, because this is how it reacted, by taking her away. The universe finally noticed its mistake, but it knew that the gravest punishment it could inflict on Vegeta was to take his Bulma away.

He watched her, surrounded by the love of her children and grandchildren. She had the love of so many friends. He thought about the vampire’s words. That he should love Bulma. Grieve her. Put her to rest in that overpriced hole in the dark, damp earth of the cemetery. But how many others would have to grieve her too?

Reluctantly, hoping his eyes weren’t red from crying, Vegeta joined his family. They were all drinking. Velma was only two, and it was fairly late, so she had fallen asleep on Bulma’s chest. Vegeta bent and kissed Velma’s temple before kissing Bulma’s mouth. She said, “Hey, honey, where’ve you been? I tried calling you when the kids decided to come over but your phone was on the bedside table. You know that’s not why you have a phone, right?”

“Yes, I know, that’s why I didn't bring the damned thing,” Vegeta said, and he was about to demand to hold his granddaughter, but he stopped. Bulma’s days of cuddling Velma, and more importantly perhaps, Velma’s days of cuddling Bulma, were short. Vegeta sat in the chair next to his wife and put his hand on her thigh.

He let his children continue to monopolize Bulma’s attention because Bulma was glowing she was so happy. Nothing would ever make her happier than seeing her children grown into fine young adults. Trunks ran Capsule Corp as well as she ever had. Goten stayed home with Velma. He was a loyal husband to Trunks, a devoted father to Velma. Everything Kakarot wasn’t, thank goodness. Vegeta knew that even though Goten was a Son, so Vegeta’s instinct was to hate him, Goten made Trunks happy, so Vegeta could only bluff.

Bulla ran a martial arts academy and had won the World Martial Arts tournament every year since Hercule Satan “retired.” She ran through men like socks, but Vegeta didn’t care, and Bulma didn’t either, because Bulla was happy being young and unencumbered. She and Bulma went out for dinner just the two of them at least once a week. Bulla still trained with Vegeta and sometimes even kicked his ass. Both his children filled him with pride.

Vegeta wondered now if Bulma had told either of their children that she was dying. He suspected she would have kept it secret until the bitter end if she could have. How Bulma could be so loving and kind while simultaneously being an excellent liar baffled Vegeta. Vegeta was a terrible liar. He’d spent too much of his life proud of his villainy to try to hide it.

A thought occurred to him as he considered his villainy, his karma, and how this, Bulma being taken from her even earlier than standard, miserable human aging would have taken her, was maybe his payment for all his misdeeds. Vegeta’s mind trailed back through the things he’d done to try to amend them. To try to restore some balance because he knew he would go to hell, and he didn’t deny that as the appropriate course of the gods, but…he still hoped to level the playing field some, if only so he could be with her in the afterlife. He knew he wouldn’t be, but he still…fantasized.

He stood, kissed her cheek, bid his children farewell, and said he was off to train. No one even noticed. It was hardly aberrant behavior for Vegeta, even if he’d gotten better about it over the years. He hurried to the gravity room, waited until he was confident Trunks would no longer be paying attention to his chi, and rocketed up to the Lookout.

“Dende!?”

“Good Lord of Lords, Vegeta, I’m right here, you needn’t shout. I felt your approach. Is there some catastrophe I’ve missed?”

“No. Well. Yes. I have a few questions. The Namekian dragon balls—could they take life from one and give it to another? To heal them?”

“Well…only if the person wished to give _their_ life, not to gain life.”

“Do you know if the Namekian dragon balls are…available?”

“What’s this about, Vegeta?”

“If I tell you, I don’t want your opinions on it, only facts, do you hear me?”

“Of course,” Dende said, his eyebrows coming together.

“Bulma has cancer, very advanced, and only months to live. I can’t stand it. I can’t outlive her. I’m not strong enough for that. I also…Dende…no one but her would mourn my loss, but many will mourn hers and she offers so much to all of humanity with the technology she invents. I would like to exchange my life and health with hers. I would spare her the pain, but also the grief to my children and everyone else. But it’s primarily a selfish choice. I won’t pretend at this late date to be noble.”

Dende’s eyes were worried and he started to speak, but his mouth hung open. He closed it. His eyes slid shut and Vegeta could hear the soft murmuring of telepathy, but he couldn’t make out the words. Dende’s gaze, when it returned, was intense. Vegeta held it though: he no longer feared judgement.

“I spoke with Moori. They are available. And they can do that, though it will require all three wishes. You’ll have to wish the cancer to yourself, he said. You’ll have to wish your health to her. And last, you will have to wish your remaining years of life to her. Do you truly…understand…what you’re doing?”

“Yes. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. Can I go now?” Vegeta said. He feared if he waited even twenty-four hours, Bulma might get wind of his plan and try to stop him somehow.

“Very well, Vegeta. You are noble, you know, to do this thing.”

“I’m not. I’m a coward. I could never face her death. But she deserves my life far more than I ever have. Thank you for contacting Moori,” Vegeta said and pressed two fingers to his forehead.

* * *

Vegeta was only gone from Earth twenty minutes or so, as Moori prodded and probed him mentally to be sure Vegeta wasn’t making his wishes under duress or the influence of some witchcraft or drug. Vegeta didn’t tell Moori that love was the strongest drug in the world, the most potent witchcraft. And gods if Bulma didn’t wield them both like a some kind of warrior witch queen. The love he felt for her was otherworldly.

Moori kindly explained to Porunga what the nature and goal of the wishes was, and Porunga agreed, due to the nature of the wishes, to advise on the order they were best accomplished. Vegeta’s years and health sent to Bulma first, so that his health and life expectancy weren’t tainted by the cancer, and finally, he would with the cancer into himself. Apparently the dragon balls couldn’t heal natural diseases, but it could move them if there was a willing recipient.

Vegeta felt his years slip away from him, felt his health and vitality, and then the cancer poured into him. Vegeta felt the toxic bloom in his chest, making it suddenly hard to breathe, the hard flat tension along his chest wall, the faint, but growing, burning cramp in his abdomen, and worst of all, the ache in his bones where the cancer had obviously found a foothold in the marrow.

He wept not from his own pain, Vegeta could take pain like a whipping boy, but from the sadness he felt that his beloved had endured so much in silence, in secrecy, all because he was too weak to endure _that_ pain. Her pain. The loss of her. The loss of that magical love she had bestowed on him. Bulma fought this silently to spare Vegeta any pain.

Once Vegeta recovered from bawling like a child, he returned to Earth. He tortured his newly weakened, newly short-lived body into submission. It was a relief to know that all the dragon balls were out of commission so Bulma couldn’t do something stupid.

Vegeta felt his children leave. He needed a few more minutes of self-flagellation. A few more minutes to prepare for her anger. But those were not available as she pounded on the door.

“Godsdamnit, Vegeta, open this fucking door right this fucking instant!” Bulma barked.

Vegeta flipped the gravity off and opened the door. Bulma looked radiant. She looked younger than she had when Vegeta first met her on Namek so long ago. All the gray was gone from her hair. Her skin was tight and toned and flawless. But a part of Vegeta cringed to see her young because it brought home that he would never live to see her old. They would not grow old together as they had both promised when he finally accepted her love enough to marry her.

Bulma slapped him with youthful vigor. Slapped him again. Then she kicked him in the nuts, which he was not expecting, so he doubled over. “Fucking gods, woman! Really? The balls?”

“You asshole! What did you do? How? I talked to Dende, this isn’t possible? What did you do?!” Bulma screamed, but when she burst into tears, Vegeta knew that his genius wife had figured it out. Bulma figured everything out. She wrapped her arms around him when he managed to stand back up.

Vegeta hugged her tightly. Let her weep. Vegeta said nothing. He knew that she knew what was done, was done.

* * *

Vegeta went fast. Part of him had hoped his Saiyan body would pull out some tricks against the human disease, but it ravaged him. Saiyan cells knew nothing of this type of thing and he could feel his biology floundering like it suddenly found itself in a foreign country where it didn’t read or speak the language. Each day, as the pain increased, and his training grew more and more pathetic, he was grateful that he’d spared Bulma this suffering. He gave her a different kind of course, because the foolish woman loved him, so she grieved, but better that than this. She would move on.

Vegeta felt himself slipping. He’d been in bed the past few days. She stayed with him most of the day. Helped him to the bathroom to puke up the nothing he’d eaten, to try to shit out the nothing that could get through the infestation of parasitic cells clogging up his entire digestive tract.

Breathing, when he woke that morning, was barely feasible. The tight band of spikes that wrapped around his chest shrunk daily. He pulled her weakly into his arms. Today was it. He was sure. She cried with him and texted Bulla and Trunks to come say goodbye. Vegeta was glad of this at least. Glad that this cowardly death of his allowed him to give those he loved a proper farewell.

Before Bulla and Trunks arrived, Vegeta needed to ask his perfect wife something. He wheezed until he had the breath to speak. “My Bulma, I…I…I’ve always loved you. I know I don’t…” Vegeta gasped for air. His vision darkened and the muscles making his lungs work threatened to rob him of his last moments. “I don’t deserve it…but…when…when the time comes…I wish for my useless body, what’s left of it, I wish for it to rest…” Vegeta coughed and coughed. Blood splattered his palm. He sucked through so much liquid to get out the last words. “Not a lone plot. Lie with me, in the end, yes?”

“Oh fuck, Vegeta, seriously? You’re talking to me about that? I’ve already done it. Fuck you. You fucking asshole. Leaving me. But I did it. You shit.”

“What’s…” Vegeta panted, “the stone…say?”

Bulma sat up and looked down into his eyes. His vision had a halo of darkness now. But he could look into her turquoise beauties one last time. She swallowed hard and choked out, “Vegeta Briefs on the top, I’m claiming you as mine. Your fucking royal parents can kiss my ass. You’re mine! Then the second line says: Warrior. Father. Husband. I just put your year like mine, since you don’t know exactly. I hope that’s okay, honey.” Bulma’s weeping became wracking sobs.

Trunks, Goten, Velma, and Bulla all arrived at the same time. Vegeta was beyond speaking. He held Bulma as he wheezed and sucked in air like a man who had drowned, but didn’t yet know it. Trunks lifted him up, sending bolts of fiery pain through him, but also so much love. So much pride. Trunks and Goten wrapped around him together, each kissing a cheek, which startled Vegeta, but he supposed that they knew he couldn’t fight back against such affection in his weakened state.

Velma climbed into his lap and sobbed as her father’s held her against her dying grandfather. Bulla and Bulma, wrapped around them too, and Vegeta, squashed by the only people on the shitty planet he’d called home most of his life, breathed his last breath. He closed his eyes and felt peace that his Bulma would lay beside him in the earth, if not in the afterlife. That was enough for Vegeta.


	4. A Genie in a Cave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma and Vegeta are amicably split, but she demands he go to a costume party with her so he can meet someone new. Dressed as Aladdin, he stumbles into his own cave of wonders.

Bulma insisted their costumes match despite the fact that they were merely roommates these days, not a couple. After Bulla’s early years, they had drifted apart. Before that even, but the harried nature of life with an extremely powerful toddler made it convenient to stay together, even if the only reason they fell into bed together was from exhaustion. It had been years since they’d had sex and they both agreed that they were done. They weren’t angry, or hurt, or betrayed: they were just done. But they were friends. Bulma understood Vegeta better than almost anyone, and he understood her too.

Bulma and Yamcha had been sleeping together again, that much Vegeta knew. The first time he sensed it happening, because he still lived at Capsule Corp, though he had his own rooms, he expected to feel _something_ , but he didn’t, only a noticing. Just that the woman was getting laid. Her chi suggested she was having a good time. Yamcha’s chi, as always, confirmed he was a weakling. It put a spring back in Bulma’s step and she looked happy again for the first time in years. Bulma’s happiness still made Vegeta happy, that hadn’t changed.

But her happiness didn’t make Vegeta less lonely. He didn’t like to admit such a pathetic thing, so he didn’t. Bulma, though, knowing Vegeta as she did, noticed. Which was how he found himself in the humiliating position of going to a costume party for adults. Grown adults dressing up like children to get drunk and dance and, dear gods, _mingle_. The very thought made Vegeta’s throat fill with vomit.

Initially he was excited because he intended to make a costume from the bones of his enemies. He could teleport now, and he could go to the various planets he’d depopulated and make himself a suit of bones. It seemed appropriately terrifying for the strange holiday.

Bulma vetoed it and screeched, “You’re not going in a suit made from the proof of genocides you committed!”

His ex-wife didn’t love _all_ of Vegeta. So he was forced, with great humiliation, to wear a little vest, and poofy, floofy, pants, and bizarre shoes that looked like something the little gift-making abominations from the other holiday wore. Elves. Yes. Elf shoes. The indignity. She told him that he was Aladdin. She dressed herself in what he assumed the whore version of what Disney’s Jasmine would wear. Bulma looked beautiful, of course, she always did.

This was the first year they felt confident Bulla could trick-or-treat on her own without accidentally (or purposefully) murdering anyone. Which was the other reason this indignity was required of Vegeta. Bulma knew him well enough to know that he would mope all night that his baby girl no longer needed him. Not that she ever had, but he felt better when he could _seem_ useful.

“Let’s go, Vegeta, you sulking won’t make Bulla any less independent. Come on, maybe you’ll meet someone who will finally fuck you and make you less grumpy.”

“Did that ever work when you fucked me, woman?” Vegeta said with a smirk.

“I never fucked _you._ Despite offering numerous times,” Bulma said and winked. The fucking winking. It drove Vegeta to planet-destroying levels of rage. Vegeta wasn’t opposed to pegging in the abstract, he just didn’t want anyone _weak_ to fuck his ass.

“Who on Earth, literally, on Earth, would try to fuck me?” Vegeta asked.

“Goku?”

“Say that again and I’ll incinerate you. The thought makes my skin crawl. That man, I swear. The first time he hit on me, I was willing to excuse it for his naïveté, but then he just keeps doing it! ChiChi never should have left him. Marrying him was a public service,” Vegeta said and shivered with horror.

“Did you hear she got engaged to Hercule, at long last?”

“So she can finally have money. Long-suffering woman. Oh gods. Is this party a plot? Are you trying to make me fuck Kakarot again?” Vegeta said and sneered.

Bulma sighed. “No, Vegeta, I know after your last rage-fueled tantrum that you’re not going to fuck Goku, or let him fuck you, because I’m serious about that part. But there will be hundreds of people at this thing.”

“I know, you keep telling me like that makes me _want_ to go. It does _not_ make me want to go.”

“Too late. See you there since I assume you don’t want to ride with me?” Bulma asked.

Vegeta shook his head. “No. I hate that infernal thing. I’ll see you there. How long do I have to stay for it to count as ‘trying,’ woman?”

“Until you actually put some effort into not being a lonely asshole.”

“I just have the one, how could it be anything but lonely?”

Bulma laughed and said, “Find another asshole. And put your dick in it. Or put his dick in yours. Whatever. But you need to get laid, Vegeta. You’re insufferable lately and I don’t feel like climbing back into the sack with you. You’re too high maintenance.”

Vegeta snorted and scowled. “I am not.”

She softened and kissed his cheek. “No, you’re right. It’s just a lot of work for you, isn’t it? To maintain your cold, surly facade in bed, while also actually being really good at fucking, but then having to pretend that you don’t like it that much? It’s a lot to juggle. You could just…be normal?”

“This is why we’re not together anymore. That is my _normal,_ ” Vegeta said and it was true. He wished he were different, but he didn’t know how to be different.

“I know, I just wish you’d…relax. Maybe you should get drunk?” Bulma offered.

He shuddered in horror again. “I’m not going to get drunk! Don’t you remember what happened the last time?”

“Uh, yeah, I do. That’s why I think you should get drunk.”

“I almost had sex with a machine!” Vegeta cried.

“Android 17 isn’t a _machine_ per se…”

“Close enough!”

“At least you wouldn’t have to be careful. I still wish you’d gone to town on each other. I would’ve filmed it and been youtube famous,” Bulma said and giggled.

“No one is filming me fucking!” Vegeta snarled. He took off for the fucking costume party, his ridiculous puff-pants flapping around in the wind. The woman had outlined his eyes in kohl and put some glitter on his cheekbones and eyelids. He liked how it looked but could never imagine spending the time to do such nonsense every day.

He touched down and tapped his absurd, curly-toed shoe in irritation while he waited for her. When she finally arrived, he was already ready to leave. He could hear the jovial hoards of humans inside. It was awful.

The lighting was well done, dim and silvery, giving the impression of moonlight. The decorations made the whole room seem like a creepy forest, complete with large black and purple papier-mâché trees with draping spider webs. Big, hairy, black spiders clung to them. Mist machines created a pale ground fog that swirled and shifted as people moved. Vegeta reluctantly admitted, only to himself, that it was pretty cool.

There was a good spread of food, so he made himself a giant plate. There was also a wide variety of candy. Vegeta took some, feeling even more ridiculous that he really was acting like a child, dressing up to get candy, then sneakily eating it before he got home. He spotted a faux cave and disappeared into the shadows to eat in peace. Or so he thought.

“My fucking cave, Vegeta, get out,” a deep gravelly voice said, and to Vegeta’s confused pleasure, a big, rough hand pressed against his bare lower back and tried to shove him out.

“Go fuck yourself, Namek, I’m staying,” Vegeta snarled and resisted the shove, which incidentally prolonged the touch.

“Why, you wanna watch?” Piccolo said and chuckled.

Vegeta spun, which shifted Piccolo’s hand onto his abs, and spluttered, “I…you…that! That is not what I meant! You vulgar—“

Piccolo patted Vegeta’s belly as he said, “Oh calm down, Vegeta. Good gods, lighten up. And get out of my cave if you’re gonna be all uptight.”

“It’s not _your_ cave!” Vegeta said. His heart was racing.

Piccolo was dressed in pants like Vegeta but without the ridiculous short vest. The same elf-shoes. Piccolo had a little black topknot of hair stuck to his smooth green skull, and his eyes were lined with kohl, like Vegeta’s, but also had shimmery purple eyeshadow that looked quite lovely if Vegeta was being honest. Heavy gauge gold hoops pierced Piccolo’s earlobes, and he wore a wide, flat, ornate gold necklace set with big, glittering purple stones. The smooth golden cuffs rounded out his costume.

Vegeta flushed, absurdly. Piccolo was a genie. He and Piccolo were in coordinated costumes. But Piccolo also looked fucking hot and Vegeta didn’t know what to do with that realization. Did Piccolo even have sex? In his years in Frieza’s army, he’d known Nameks, but he’d never fucked a Namek. He wasn’t even sure what bits Piccolo had under his baggy trousers.

“You’re staring at my dick, Vegeta, and it’s getting weird,” Piccolo said, answering that question and tearing Vegeta out of his contemplations in the worst, most shameful way possible.

Vegeta’s cheeks burned even more. His eyes shot up to Piccolo’s. Piccolo didn’t seem upset that Vegeta was gawking at his crotch. It sounded more like he was just trying to help Vegeta out by letting him know.

“I wasn’t staring at your dick! I didn’t even know you had a dick! I was simply noting that we’re…matching.”

Piccolo looked Vegeta up and down and smirked. “You look pretty good, Vegeta. I can’t believe you’re here. This doesn’t seem like your type of thing. Not that you have a type of thing. Besides fighting.”

“Oh like you do!” Vegeta snapped. Why was he being a hostile asshole? He didn’t need to act like he was under threat from Piccolo. They weren’t going to fight. Piccolo was the only one of his social circle that he actually enjoyed. There was no reason not to be sociable. Not that Vegeta had ever been sociable in his life. But he was lonely. Maybe Piccolo was lonely too, since they were both trying to skulk in a fake cave at a party. “Sorry. I…”

“Did you just apologize?” Piccolo said and his eyes were huge and almost glowed in the dim of the cave.

“Yes…” Vegeta said warily. Now that Vegeta had started thinking about Piccolo’s cock, he was finding it hard to stop. They were standing closer than he would normally stand next to anyone because of the tight confines of the cave and the fact that he’d been resisting Piccolo’s attempt to evict him.

“I didn’t know you knew how to apologize, Vegeta,” Piccolo said and Vegeta swore his tone was…teasing. “Where’s Bulma?”

“How should I know? She suggested I come, of course, well, _insisted_ , but I can’t stand the weakling, so I don’t want to be around them,” Vegeta said and tried to shift so he wasn’t right on top of Piccolo. Piccolo smelled good, which Vegeta didn’t expect. Not that he’d had any expectations about the Namek at all. “Why are you here?”

“Wait, what? Who’s the weakling? That applies to a lot of people you talk about,” Piccolo said and smirked. He took Vegeta’s cue and also shifted so they could stand more side by side, but still look at each other to speak. Piccolo crossed his arms over his chest. He hadn’t let himself go in the years of peace. His arms were massive and chiseled.

Vegeta wondered what Piccolo’s skin felt like. His cheeks heated again. He said, “Tch, don’t make me say his name. It’s degrading. The one the Saibamen killed when Nappa and I first came to Earth.”

“Wait, Bulma’s here with Yamcha?” Piccolo said and his head canted to the side. His eyes narrowed and he turned to face Vegeta more fully. “Why?”

Vegeta supposed there was no reason that anyone would know they were split. They still lived in the same house and showed up at a lot of things together. Vegeta said, “We’ve been split for years now. I still live at Capsule Corp, because where else would I go? It’s not like I can get a job. She and I have talked about buying me a piece of property so I can build a house of my own farther from humans.”

Piccolo scrutinized him for longer than Vegeta felt was necessary. Was the Namek reading his mind? With Piccolo’s telepathy, Vegeta had never really been clear on how much Piccolo could tap into other people’s thoughts. Piccolo said, “So you’re…single?”

Vegeta had never thought of himself in that way because he’d never really been anything but single. Vegeta knew part of the reason he and Bulma floundered was his emotional unavailability. Vegeta’s interior life was a well-guarded fortress. He said, “Yes. I suppose I am.”

“And have been single…for years?”

“Why are you interrogating me? Yes. I haven’t had a partner since Bulma.”

“Wow. That sucks,” Piccolo said, his eyebrows rocketing up, showing more of the glittering violet eyeshadow.

“What? Why?” Vegeta said.

“I mean…have you…you know, gotten laid?” Piccolo asked in a pitying tone.

Vegeta’s jaw dropped. He looked around to make sure no one was listening to their conversation. “Not that my sex life is any of your business, but no. Who would I sleep with besides Bulma?”

“Goku?”

“Why does everyone say that?! I hate that man!” Vegeta hissed.

“Settle down, Vegeta. I just thought since you were both split with your wives. Plus you’re both Saiyan, so you two could really rumble. Humans get boring, they’re so fucking fragile, you know?” Piccolo said, clearly hoping to commiserate.

Now Vegeta’s eyebrows shot up. He supposed since Piccolo had popped open the can of talking about their sex-lives, Vegeta could be nosy in return. “Do…do you fuck humans?”

“Uh, yeah, who the hell else would I fuck?” Piccolo said looking irritated. Frustrated. Disappointed, even.

Vegeta’s treacherous first thought was: _me_. Vegeta’s eyes skittered to Piccolo’s hoping the Namek hadn’t heard his thought. “Goku?”

“Gross!” Piccolo said, lifting a nostril in a sneer of disgust.

“Oh, but it’s fine to suggest I would do that?” Vegeta huffed and finished scarfing down his food with the exception of the mound of candy on his smaller plate.

Piccolo took a piece of candy corn and popped it in his fanged mouth. He looked Vegeta over and said, “So…do you just not like sex?”

“What!? Of course I like sex!” Vegeta barked.

Piccolo chewed slowly, swallowed, and said, “Then how have you gone so long without it?”

“The same way any man does, with his hand and his imagination,” Vegeta snapped. It was humiliating to admit he’d done nothing but masturbate since he and Bulma called it quits.

“Damn, Vegeta, you want to head back to my place?” Piccolo said with a coy little smirk.

“What?” Vegeta asked and his eyes widened as he realized that Piccolo had maybe just hit on him. He stammered, “I…wait…what?!”

Piccolo laughed and swatted Vegeta’s shoulder. “Calm down. I know I’m not your type,” Piccolo said.

Vegeta felt more let down than he wanted to admit. “How would you know what my type is?”

“Well, I assume you’re straight since you married a woman,” Piccolo said, “And I am very much not a woman,” his eyes slid up and down Vegeta’s body again and he said, “Though I might bottom for _you_.”

Vegeta’s heart was going to explode it beat so hard. The damned Namek could probably hear it. “I hate the Earthling relegation of cocks to one or the other. Can’t a person just fuck whomever they want to fuck? Or get fucked by, for that matter? It’s infuriating. Bulma was a woman, but hardly indicative of my ‘type,’” Vegeta said and ate a candy pumpkin. He had a weakness for the pumpkins. It was the only reason he thought Halloween was worth celebrating. They were made of exactly the same stuff as the little corns, but the pumpkins just tasted better. One of life’s little mysteries.

Green, clawed fingers swiped a pumpkin and Vegeta caught Piccolo’s hand. “Not the pumpkins, Piccolo, or I’ll end you.”

“So, I offer to fuck you and you threaten to kill me over a candy pumpkin?” Piccolo said, eyeballing Vegeta in an unsettling way.

Vegeta found Piccolo’s forwardness rather refreshing, but he didn’t know how to cope with it. He still worried that Piccolo was making fun of him in some confusing Earthling way. “You were only joking…just as I’m only joking. But the pumpkins are my favorite.”

Piccolo’s face split in a sexy half-smile and he chuckled. “I was most definitely _not_ joking, Vegeta.”

“What?” Vegeta said and released Piccolo’s hand, much to his regret. The candy bowl was ninety percent the dumb corns, only ten percent pumpkins.

Piccolo leaned and said, “Open up,” as he held the pumpkin near Vegeta’s lips.

Vegeta thought of defending against the potential for mockery, but instead, he opened his mouth. When Piccolo’s fingers slid inside his mouth with the pumpkin, Vegeta could have just let him remove them, but he sucked one. He narrowed his eyes and watched Piccolo intently. Piccolo’s eyes were riveted to Vegeta’s mouth.

Piccolo’s finger trailed down Vegeta’s chin and quipped it. Piccolo shook his head and sighed. “I can’t believe you’ve been single for years.”

Vegeta finished eating his pumpkin, meeting Piccolo’s intense gaze. “Why?”

“Well, first of all, I could never go that long without sex, I don’t think, so I guess you have better control than me. But I…ah, never mind,” Piccolo said, flapping his hand dismissively at Vegeta. “See you around, Vegeta,” Piccolo said and made as if to leave the cave.

Vegeta placed a hand on Piccolo’s abs, stopping him. “Where are you going? You can’t say…say the things you said and then just run away!”

“I’m not running, I’m taking a hint,” Piccolo said.

Vegeta wished he had more to contribute to their conversation than the verbal equivalent of toddler-hood, “What? What hint? I…I thought you were making fun of me! You don’t think it’s humiliating that I haven’t been with someone in that long?” Vegeta held his breath, looked away, expecting Piccolo’s mockery.

After a long moment of silence, Vegeta’s eyes darted up to see that Piccolo looked…sympathetic. “I wasn’t making fun of you. I was serious. That sucks. I’m sorry. I’m sure it’s hard living on a foreign planet and only knowing a small handful of people. I’ve always felt very isolated here, but I’m famous, so I can pretty much pick up guys whenever I want. I’m surprised you haven’t done the same.”

“I was a soldier my entire life. An elite one. I’ve never had to be the…instigator…And Earth is different. The sexuality stuff is confusing for me. The fucking gender nonsense too. All of it. It’s different in space. I had scores of one night stands in my Frieza days, but now… I…I’m past the point in my life where meaningless sex is very enjoyable. Bulma and I had enough of that, fucking just for the sake of our bodies. I grew weary of it. At a certain point that’s just masturbating with a more elaborate toy, don’t you think?” Vegeta said and looked up into Piccolo’s eyes. Vegeta’s pulse soared. He’d never been that open, even with Bulma, about his thoughts on sex.

“Wow, Vegeta, you’ve managed to surprise me multiple times tonight,” Piccolo said, “I’d never thought of meaningless sex that way, but yeah, you’re right.”

Vegeta continued spilling his guts, like he couldn’t stop now that he’d started, “Not that I think there’s anything wrong with it. I’m just not…interested in that anymore. So I…I’ve resigned myself to celibacy. Who on Earth could I have _meaningful_ sex with? There’s only a handful people who even know _what_ I am, and of those, only one actually tolerates my company,” Vegeta said. He stared at the ground, perilously close to tears. It was awful to admit that he would die alone, never having shared physical pleasure with anyone after his forties. Saiyans lived long lives. Suicide had crossed Vegeta’s mind more often recently. The thought of enduring decades of loneliness and despair made him physically ill. There wasn’t even anything to fight anymore to distract himself. He closed his eyes tightly: he could fight his tears. He had no idea why he was pouring his soul out to Piccolo while hiding in a cave at a costume party.

Piccolo took the plate of candy from Vegeta. Before Vegeta could protest, Piccolo cupped Vegeta’s jaw in his big hand and kissed him. Vegeta appreciated that Piccolo knew it would startle Vegeta enough to make him drop the candy. Vegeta froze at first. He hadn’t kissed anyone in so long he almost had to think about what to do. But his body remembered and there was an electricity underlying the kiss that Vegeta had never felt before. Vegeta melted under the heat of the kiss.

Vegeta gripped Piccolo’s big bicep with one hand, his other slid onto Piccolo’s lower back, steadying himself on Piccolo’s big, powerful body. Vegeta thrilled at the soft corduroy feel of Piccolo’s skin, the suede-like texture of the pink patches on his arms. His tongue met Piccolo’s hungrily and the shivering, clenching feeling in his loins almost made him moan. He hadn’t felt this way in decades. Ever, if he was being honest. Certainly never while kissing.

Piccolo’s hand skimmed down Vegeta’s body, around onto his ass. His hand was big enough that he palmed Vegeta’s ass and lifted him up to be able to kiss him without slumping. Vegeta thrilled at being picked up like this. He hadn’t been held like that since the last time he and Raditz had been together.

“Are your bones made of lead? How are you this heavy?” Piccolo murmured and smiled against Vegeta’s lips, but didn’t stop kissing him long enough to let Vegeta answer.

Vegeta’s hope that he might not wither in his solitude made him feel almost _cheerful_ and he laughed. He rolled his hips against Piccolo and whispered, “I can show you what _one_ of my bones is made of.”

Piccolo kissed him more before he said, “Oh yeah? Right here in this cave?”

“I am Aladdin after all, and you’re a genie. Shouldn’t I rub your magic lamp, see if you come?” Vegeta said and chuckled.

“I’d have to grant you three wishes if you did that,” Piccolo said and bit Vegeta’s ear.

Vegeta shivered, it wasn’t a soft bite and Piccolo’s words came back to him about how fragile humans were. Vegeta’s heart twisted. Piccolo likely just wanted to fuck someone powerful for a change, if he was used to gentle human sex.

But Vegeta _liked_ Piccolo. He had always liked Piccolo. They shared a history of being turned “good” by Goku, while never really turning. Piccolo grew up isolated from his people like Vegeta. Alone. Maybe lonely? Vegeta tried not to spiral. He didn’t need to overthink this. He could just make out a little and go back to his life. Now that he’d tasted Piccolo, he wanted him. But Vegeta wondered if Piccolo could grow to like Vegeta too.

Piccolo stopped sucking down Vegeta’s neck. Vegeta shifted to look into his eyes. Piccolo kissed his mouth more softly. Piccolo still held the plate of candy out to one side. Vegeta said, “If I’m going to rub you out of your lamp, you might want to set that down.”

Piccolo grinned, squatted with Vegeta on his hips, and set the plate down. While Vegeta balanced on Piccolo’s muscular thighs, Piccolo bent and kissed the hollow at the base of his throat. His hands skated up Vegeta’s abs and chest to push his vest off his shoulders.

Vegeta pulled Piccolo’s mouth back up to his and kissed him viciously, getting their teeth into it. Vegeta wanted to feel the sharp edge of Piccolo’s sexy fangs. He nipped Piccolo’s lip, encouraging the Namek to be rough in return. Piccolo’s grin grew wider and he dipped his head and bit the meat of Vegeta’s chest, drawing blood, and Vegeta moaned. That seemed to encourage Piccolo, who wrapped both arms around Vegeta and plunged his tongue into Vegeta’s mouth and let Vegeta’s tongue tangle with his.

“Piccolo,” Vegeta breathed between kisses, “I want you so badly…” It scared Vegeta to admit such a thing, to say it out loud to the object of his desire. Even this small amount of Piccolo’s interest, these first touches and kisses, lit Vegeta on fire. He wanted to keep the flame alive. He wanted to burn forever.

“Fuck, Vegeta, you asshole, I wish you’d told me you were single years ago,” Piccolo gasped and tugged at the sash holding up Vegeta’s pants.

“Why?” Vegeta panted, reciprocating by loosening Piccolo’s.

“So we could have been fucking all this time. So you could have moved out of your ex-wife’s house. I know you play things close to the vest, but fucking gods, years?” Piccolo growled and wrapped a big powerful arm around Vegeta’s waist to swing him off Piccolo’s hips and shove off his ridiculous Aladdin pants. Vegeta took the opportunity to kick Piccolo’s pants down. They both toed off their shoes as their mouths crashed together again.

“Holy shit,” Vegeta croaked as he saw Piccolo’s more than proportional cock.

Piccolo chortled. “Maybe I’ll bottom first, yeah?”

Vegeta nodded with another nervous glance at Piccolo’s giant cock. Bulma was right, Vegeta needed to get fucked, but not right away. Vegeta realized what Piccolo had said about them fucking for years. Vegeta whispered, “You…wait…you…you’ve thought about me before? This isn’t just pity?”

Piccolo made a sour face. “I don’t fuck anyone out of _pity_ , Vegeta. Least of all you. Of course I’ve thought about you before. You’re the only one of our motley crew that I actually _like_. Add the fact that you’re hot as fuck and yeah, I’ve definitely thought about you. Bulma just beat me to the punch. But all’s fair in love and war and she has assets that I do not.”

“I wasn’t with her for her wealth!” Vegeta protested.

“I meant her tits and snatch, Vegeta. Those assets. I didn’t think you liked cock,” Piccolo said and kissed Vegeta more. He held Vegeta up with one arm. His other hand, long-fingered and powerful, wrapped around their cocks, pressed them together, and began sliding up and down.

Somehow they were slick and slippery. Vegeta startled and looked down. They were covered in something glistening and wet. His eyes darted up to Piccolo’s and Piccolo smirked. “Not a genie, but still magic,” he said and held up his hand as the layer of clear lube started to drip off his hand.

“Fuck all, that’s handy,” Vegeta said with a smirk at his pun.

Piccolo laughed and nudged Vegeta’s head up with his face. Piccolo nibbled along Vegeta’s jawline and muttered, “So, at that barbecue when you almost went down on 17, were you single then?”

“Yes…newly single, and drunk enough to make bad decisions.”

“Are you drunk now?” Piccolo said and Vegeta liked that there was a worried note in his voice.

“No. Maybe a bit of a sugar high. I do not typically eat candy, but I love those fucking pumpkins,” Vegeta said, “Are you drunk? Is that why you’re doing this?”

“I’m doing this because I like you, stop being an asshole about it,” Piccolo said.

“I don’t mean to be,” Vegeta said and summoned some courage, “I like you too.”

Piccolo’s hand moved faster. Vegeta’s hand joined his and they frotted while they kissed. Vegeta caressed Piccolo’s face with his other hand. His whole lower torso felt coiled tight and hot, and Vegeta didn’t want to come in Piccolo’s hand. He wanted to come inside Piccolo. He groaned, “Fuck, you have to stop. I want to fuck you. Please, oh gods, I want to fuck you so badly.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you do. You poor thing. Years without sex.”

Vegeta couldn’t find it in his very horny self to be indignant, so he only nodded. Hehopped off Piccolo’s hips and turned him around, pushed him to bend over. He dropped to his knees and pulled Piccolo’s muscular ass cheeks apart. He licked over Piccolo’s opening and moaned against him.

“Fuck, Vegeta!” Piccolo cried, clearly startled.

“Don’t make me stop,” Vegeta panted.

“No, don’t stop, not that,” Piccolo groaned as Vegeta’s tongue lapped at his pucker. “Oh fuck…fuck…fuck…”

It amused Vegeta that he was on his knees and his face barely reached Piccolo’s ass. Tall motherfucker. He squeezed Piccolo’s perfect ass and pointed his tongue to press it inside Piccolo’s bud. Piccolo’s noises were going to make Vegeta come all over himself, so he knew he couldn’t rim Piccolo much longer.

Piccolo panted, “Vegeta,” and Vegeta reached between his legs to stroke his cock. Piccolo seized his hand and said, “No, you can’t. I want you. Now.”

Vegeta stood up and spun Piccolo back around. They kissed for a moment and Piccolo lubed Vegeta’s cock more. Vegeta gripped the back of Piccolo’s thighs and hoisted him up. Piccolo seemed thrilled by this and Vegeta supposed there probably weren’t any humans that could really manhandle Piccolo. So Vegeta smirked and decided to _really_ manhandle Piccolo.

“Guide me in,” Vegeta whispered.

“Fuck yes, fuck me hard, Vegeta,” Piccolo said, his voice shaky.

Vegeta whimpered it felt so good to thrust into the gripping, burning ring of muscle. “Fuck, Piccolo, you feel fucking amazing,” he panted out.

Piccolo’s head fell back and he moaned. His rock hard arms coiled around Vegeta’s head and clutched their bodies together as Vegeta held Piccolo’s ass and started slowly plunging in and out of his hole. “Fucking pound me, Vegeta,” Piccolo pleaded, “Please, I need you, I need you to fuck me rough.”

Vegeta smirked and purred, “So you do want to see what my bone is made of? Should I make you come out of your lamp?”

Piccolo chortled through his cries of pleasure as Vegeta picked up his pace but he wanted more leverage. He slammed Piccolo against the wall of the cave before remembering that it wasn’t a real wall.

Together they cried, “Fuck!” as the whole cave tipped over, somehow catching the plate of candy and flipping it through the air. It made a candy-corn hailstorm.

Vegeta couldn’t deny that it felt good to fall on top of Piccolo like that as it drove him deeper inside Piccolo’s splayed body. Piccolo liked it too as he groaned, “Fuck, hit it again, Vegeta!”

Vegeta, heedless of the fact that they might’ve just attracted an audience, pistoned into Piccolo, and he gasped, “Come with me, Piccolo! Fuck, I want to feel your ass spasm on my cock! Come with me now!”

Piccolo roared and cum squelched up between their bodies as Vegeta dove to cover Piccolo’s mouth with his own, still pumping into his ass as his seed spilled inside Piccolo in such volume that it sprayed out around Vegeta’s cock, splattering the inside of Piccolo’s thighs.

They panted against each other’s lips as they kissed. “Fuck, oh fuck, that was incredible,” Piccolo murmured and caressed Vegeta’s face. The rocked more slowly together until their eyes widened simultaneously. The looked up to see many sets of wide eyes in the dim silvery light of the party.

Kakarot stood closest to them and Vegeta could see, thanks to his tight Spiderman costume, that he had a hard-on. Bulma stood next to him with a drink and a smug smile. The other faces were irrelevant to Vegeta, but gawked at the two musclebound men, naked in the remnants of a cave and covered in cum.

Vegeta hooked an arm under Piccolo’s lower back and floated them upright, but kept their bodies together so at least their dicks were hidden. Vegeta growled, “Fuck off, all of you. Go back to your stupid party!”

When no one dispersed, Piccolo said, “Let’s go to my place.”

Vegeta flared a nostril and smirked at Bulma and said, “Have I stayed at the party long enough?”

“Yeah, looks like it,” she said and laughed, “Go on. I’ll take Bulla tonight.”

Vegeta strode out of the party with Piccolo still riding his cock. Piccolo buried his face in the crook of Vegeta’s neck, laughing. Vegeta stopped though and turned back. Piccolo said, “Good gods, Vegeta, get us out of here.”

Vegeta picked up the whole bowl of candy corn and pumpkins, marched out, and flew them both back to Piccolo’s place. Piccolo picked pumpkins out the whole way, placing each in Vegeta’s mouth after Vegeta kissed him.

Piccolo hopped off Vegeta as they landed in front of Piccolo’s house. He took Vegeta’s hand and said, “Well, now that you made your genie come, what are you three wishes?”

“Take me inside and I’ll show you…” Vegeta purred, “But I might have more than three.”

“Then you might have to rub my lamp again,” Piccolo said and Vegeta kissed him, the sweet taste of the pumpkins mixing with Piccolo’s taste. Vegeta thought it was possibly the best taste in the world. Worthy of its own holiday.


	5. Sweet Vengeance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta and Kakarot are in the Room of Spirit and Time for three years. Vegeta finds a way to finally achieve his vengeance against his longtime nemesis.

Vegeta’s thirst for vengeance against Kakarot had never abated over the years. Vegeta knew Kakarot thought that being sequestered together for three fucking years would make them chums at long last as the idiot wanted. Vegeta knew more than that though. Ever since they’d fused with the potara, Vegeta had known what that fucking clown really wanted and it had nothing to do with friendship. It startled Vegeta that a man who could teleport had so little ability to shield his inner life. Vegeta was grateful he’d had extensive experience with species that could pick through your mind like monkeys after nits.

Vegeta spent the few hours of solitude he demanded every day searching the far reaches of the Room of Spirit and Time. No lifetime would ever be long enough to find all the mysteries in that bizarre realm. But one could find something new every day. Which Vegeta had. The fountain he found after the first few months promised Vegeta his long sought after vengeance. The fact that it was temporary pleased him too. He might’ve done it anyway. He slurped up the magical water after he read the strange inscription and puzzled out what it meant. 

All he had to do now was wait for the completely unpredictable lunar cycle to shine full. The full moon didn’t happen every couple fortnights as it did on the regular plane of Earth. Here it could happen every few days or go almost two months. It was strange and unsettling, just one more of the many ways that the Room could fuck with a person’s sanity.

Vegeta’s fighting had been sharper since drinking the magical fountain’s water. The clown noticed and to Vegeta’s extreme irritation, loved it.

“Jeez, Vegeta, you’re knocking me around like crazy today. You’ve been at your best the past few days. Have you been working on your mental game or something in your ‘alone time.’”

Kakarot always said “alone time” with air quotes. Vegeta hadn’t understood at first, but then one day at dinner, the idiot let slip that “alone time” was his euphemism for jerking off. Lovely. There was a mental image that wouldn’t leave Vegeta no matter how hard he tried. He hated that Kakarot insisted on pretending that Vegeta was just playing with his cock whenever they weren’t together. It was as if every word that came out of the moron’s mouth was specifically calculated to piss Vegeta off in as many ways as possible, but Vegeta also knew that Kakarot was hardly the sort to calculate anything more complicated than whether he could buy a damn sandwich with the change in his pocket.

Seven days after Vegeta found the fountain, the sun began to set in the Room and the moon’s first blushing edge showed itself creeping up along a treeline that hadn’t been there the night before. The _full_ moon. Excellent. Vegeta’s blood hummed like it used to when he had a tail: the sweet, seismic feeling right before he would transform into his oozaru form. Vegeta missed that feeling. _That_ was a feeling Vegeta could use some alone time for. That level of power and destruction always made Vegeta crave sex like an unquenchable thirst.

Vegeta knew enough from Earth’s myths and entertainment to have some expectation of what he would become, so it was almost disappointing how little he actually changed. It started in his feet, they became clawed, the joints shifting up until he had the powerful, padded feet of a big wolf. But his hands only grew claws and a thin layer of silky black fur. His arms and torso, too, sprouted the silky coat of fur. He stripped off his battle suit as it began.

What made him most excited was the tail. When the strong, muscular tail surged out of the very spot where his tail used to be, Vegeta thought he might just come with his new, larger cock, the only part of his torso that remained hairless. He supposed he ought to put on some sort of covering, but he didn’t care. His lust for blood grew with every sleek hair. Vegeta’s face hardly changed at all. His features got more pronounced, shifted slightly forward, but it wasn't a full muzzle as he’d expected. His teeth all became sharp and his fangs lengthened, his tongue became more extendable. His ears got little pointy tips. His eyes were the biggest change. He stared into the still water of the lake where he waited to complete his transformation. They grew broad gold-green irises. The iris didn’t quite wipe out the sclera, but close, and the pupils were larger than human pupils. Larger than Saiyan pupils. Pupils made to see in the dark. To hunt in the dark. He smirked and bared his fangs at his new werewolf self reflected in the calm water.

Vegeta loped off into the night. The idiot told him that he was “camping out” that night because of the full moon, which delighted Vegeta that he could hunt Kakarot like the prey animal he was. Vegeta would eviscerate his nemesis. Eat his entrails, howl at the moon, and enjoy the animal thrill of true vengeance. The fountain’s promise was that any person who drank would have strength tenfold their normal power. Kakarot might still have the power edge on Vegeta, but not _that_ much of an edge. Not tenfold.

Vegeta scented the air with his keener sense of smell, slightly better than his Saiyan olfaction even, and changed course. He wondered if “camping out” was another euphemism for Kakarot stroking his own cock and coming all over himself. Likely his woman never pleasured him properly. Vegeta loved his wife, but a Saiyan fucking a human was necessarily a delicate thing, and Vegeta, more than usual, longed for the animal, bestial pleasure of fucking another Saiyan.

Which turned his mind back to vengeance. Although he and Raditz hadn’t been mated, they were closer than Vegeta had ever told Raditz’s moronic younger brother. Vegeta made a good show of ranting that he only wanted to be stronger than Kakarot. Vegeta belittled the idiot’s class and station to try to convince himself that he didn’t miss Raditz. That they wouldn’t have mated if not for Kakarot’s decision to murder his own brother. But in his heart of hearts, the dark, shriveled bit left, Vegeta loved Raditz. Missed him. Ached that he’d let Raditz come to Earth alone. He blamed himself for the loss of his only companion.

Vengeance arrived at last, though, in the form of a magic fountain and a full moon. Vegeta noticed now, in his lupine form, that Kakarot’s scent was very similar to Raditz’s. That Kakarot, at this very moment, smelled aroused. Which he probably was if he was out furiously masturbating in the woods, likely while fantasizing about Vegeta dominating him, pounding into his ass, even though Kakarot’s fantasies on that front were rather vague. It was clear, while they shared a mind, that Kakarot had never had a man. Or a Saiyan.

Vegeta slowed his gallop as he saw the fire Kakarot had built on the bank of a river that also wasn’t there the day before. The entire Room seemed dedicated to giving Vegeta the pleasure of hunting Kakarot in the wilderness. His new padded feet moved lightly over the sandy ground alongside the river. He stayed out of the ring of firelight.

He almost snorted in derision that Kakarot hadn’t scented him yet. It was fucking shameful that the younger Saiyan was so human in his nature. Vegeta stopped in his tracks though, because he’d been right, Kakarot was masturbating, but not as Vegeta expected.

The vulnerable fool was naked on his knees bent over, one arm folded out so he could rest his forehead on it. Vegeta, until he circled assumed Kakarot was just trying to minimize cleanup by coming on the ground instead of his belly. But as he circled the campsite, Vegeta saw that was not the case. Kakarot’s fingers glistened, wet with what Vegeta could smell was cum. He reached back and touched his pucker, smearing it with his own seed. Vegeta’s jaw dropped open, against his will. Kakarot was about to finger his own ass with his own cum as lube. 

Vegeta might not like it, but his cock certainly did. Kakarot’s physique left absolutely nothing to be desired. His ass looked like it was sculpted by gods, his long, muscular legs quivered as he experimented. Vegeta would wager this was Kakarot’s first adventure finger-fucking himself. There was a hesitancy to his movements that was unusual for the fool. Vegeta hopped back farther when Kakarot turned his head to the side on his forearm. At the same moment, his middle finger pushed into his ass, barely, only to the first knuckle, but Kakarot moaned like he had a whole throbbing cock in him.

The word in Vegeta’s mind drew his eyes to the specimen itself. Kakarot’s dick, more than his smell, even, reminded Vegeta painfully of Raditz. Before Vegeta could spiral into despair, Kakarot’s moans shifted and he cried, “Vegeta, fuck, yes!” as he thrust his finger deeper, pushing it in and out of his tightness.

Vegeta knew from fusing that Kakarot wanted him. This, though, this wanton display of need was something else entirely. Kakarot was fingering his own ass and pretending it was Vegeta. Vegeta’s cock stood at attention and as Kakarot continued breathily groaning Vegeta’s name, pre-cum beaded on his tip. Vegeta sidled to get a better angle on watching his prey. Vegeta supposed there was no harm in enjoying a bit of a show before he took his revenge.

Kakarot rose up on his knees to free his other hand. Vegeta wanted to shove him back down to be able see him work his ass. But the idiot shifted spreading his legs and bent over. He spit in his hand and started jerking just the base of his cock. He did it roughly, but never touched his head. Kakarot’s needy, gasping noises were going to put Vegeta over the edge. 

Gods, he wanted to fuck the life out of Kakarot. The realization wasn’t as upsetting as he’d anticipated. Instead there was a kind of relief to it. Wasn’t fucking Kakarot, making him physically need Vegeta, a certain kind of vengeance too? Perhaps the most poetic kind, given what Kakarot had taken from him. Vegeta could get his dick wet, fuck a Saiyan again for some relief, and simultaneously give Kakarot a gift which he would promptly turn to ash before the idiot’s eyes.

Kakarot slid a second finger alongside the first and shoved them deep inside himself as Vegeta circled in closer. Kakarot still hadn’t heard, scented, or sensed him. The man’s vulnerability almost demanded Vegeta murder him at last. Instead, he purred out, “Wishing that was my cock, Kakarot?”

The idiot yelped and tried to hide what he’d been doing. Vegeta laughed. “I’ve been watching you. I _heard_ you.”

Vegeta saw and heard the clown swallow. His eyes met Vegeta’s and he spluttered, “Vegeta…it’s…I…look…could, um…hey, what’s going on with you? Are…oh gods, are you a werewolf?” Kakarot’s eyes widened. His breathing quickened even more and it amused Vegeta that the moron’s dick twitched and more pre-cum slid down his impressive length.

“I am. Only for the night. And while I intended to kill you…I think I have a better idea,” Vegeta said, still circling Kakarot like prey.

“What…what…what’d’you mean, Vegeta? Why would you kill me? You’re my best friend!” the pathetic idiot said, his eyes shocked and hurt.

Vegeta snarled, “We are _not_ friends! You took the only person I cared about from me! You and I are _not_ friends!”

The imbecile scratched the back of his neck and said, “I didn’t take Bulma from you…and don’t you care about Trunks and Bulla too?”

Vegeta’s rage roared back to Kakarot-killing levels. “Not _them_! Before them! Before you! Before I was even here! You killed him! I hate you! I fucking hate you for taking the only good thing I’d ever had in my entire miserable life!” Vegeta hated Kakarot more as tears filled his eyes. They spilled down his cheeks and he tasted them.

Kakarot’s eyebrows crashed together and his eyes darted back and forth for a moment before he said, his voice small and brittle, “Do you…do you mean Raditz? Like, like he was special to you? Was _he_ the only good thing?”

“Yes, you fucking idiot!”

“So…” Kakarot slumped onto his knees, no longer making an attempt to hide himself. “So you loved him, huh? So you don’t think…you don’t think you’ll ever love me?” Kakarot said, and his voice sounded choked. When his eyes came up and met Vegeta’s they were shiny, glassy, and so imploring Vegeta softened. Fucking Kakarot and his fucking puppy-dog eyes.

“Why would _you_ want _me_ to love you? Why?! I’m…I’m…I’m a villain!”

Kakarot’s face twisted and he flapped his hand at Vegeta. “That’s stupid, you haven’t been a villain in forever. Besides, maybe you wouldn’t have been if I hadn’t taken him from you, huh? I bet you were pretty upset when you got to Earth. Broken-hearted?”

Of all possible interactions Vegeta had played out in his head for this night, this, Kakarot’s sympathy, was not among them. Vegeta felt completely outflanked _again_. Vegeta hated Kakarot’s natural aptitude for battle. He didn’t even know he’d undercut Vegeta’s plans. It was just the way the stupid man was.

“Of course I was, you imbecile. It was awful. We’d been together for years. We grew up together. We were the last of our people. Our lives were horrible, but we had each other as comfort.”

“I…I’m sorry, Vegeta. I don’t even know what that must feel like. To care about someone that way and have _them_ care about you back. I’ve never had that.”

“You have your wife and your sons and all your friends, Kakarot, you’re positively rich with love and companionship. It boggles the mind, but you seem to be irresistible.”

Kakarot’s face dropped, looking at his hands folded in his lap over his now flaccid prick. He murmured, “I guess so. But…I also know heartache, Vegeta. I know you don’t care, and I know you don’t want me back, but…I’ve loved you for…for forever. And it’s been really hard. It was hard when you got with my best friend. It was hard watching you two grow closer when I wanted you for myself. I…I hoped maybe in here I might be able to…to…to earn _something_ from you. Anything. But…it never occurred to me that I’d hurt you like that before I ever knew you existed.”

Vegeta’s jaw dropped for a second time as tears pattered down onto Kakarot’s hands. His big shoulders shook. Vegeta wasn’t even in control of his body as he dropped onto his knees in front of Kakarot, gently cupped the idiot’s face in his clawed, wolfish hands, and pulled him into a kiss. Kakarot’s eyes widened before squeezing shut. He wrapped his big, powerful arms around Vegeta’s chest and dragged Vegeta into his lap. He whispered, “I’m sorry, Vegeta. I’m so sorry.”

“Shut up, Kakarot,” Vegeta murmured against his lips and shoved him onto his back and smirked down at the fool. “You’re ready, it would seem, from your prep work?”

Kakarot shivered at Vegeta’s words and yanked his legs up and wide, exposing his pucker, still wet with his own cum. Vegeta spit in his hand and stroked his cock. Kakarot took the hint and followed suit. Vegeta let his head loll back as the moron ran his hand up and down Vegeta’s rigid cock. At least Vegeta had a bigger prick than the clown. Not by much, but given their relative body sizes, it was satisfying.

Vegeta’s eyelids fell heavily as he rasped, “Do you want me to fuck you, Kakarot?”

“Yeah, oh gods, Vegeta, I’ve wanted that forever,” Kakarot blurted out, his face an open display of vulnerable need. It weakened Vegeta’s determination to destroy the idiot. How could Kakarot trust Vegeta this way? How could he just give himself to Vegeta this way? As if he knew Vegeta _wouldn’t_ harm him.

Vegeta lined his slippery head up with Kakarot’s cum-slick opening and nudged at the tightness. Kakarot was vocal as hell and it was hard to resist how responsive he was. Vegeta’s cock wasn’t even remotely inside Kakarot and he was panting, writhing toward Vegeta. The big idiot was just that turned on by the _idea_ of Vegeta fucking him. Kakarot’s eyebrows stayed knit together as he watched Vegeta.

Vegeta rocked his hips, pushing harder against the resistance of Kakarot’s asshole every time. Vegeta growled, “Relax for me, Kakarot, I don’t want to hurt you.” Vegeta meant it too. A few brushes of Kakarot’s ass on his cock and he was suddenly concerned with Kakarot’s wellbeing.

“I’m too excited, Vegeta. I don’t know how to relax when I’m this excited. But I want you inside me. Can’t you just ram it in? Don’t you want to hurt me a little?” the imbecile said with wide, innocent eyes.

“Kakarot, have you ever been fucked in the ass before?”

“Well…no…just…just my fingers,” the sweet idiot said and blushed. Kakarot was pretty when he blushed. Gods. Vegeta was softening by the moment. He wasn’t a werewolf, he was a were-fucking-puppy.

“What do you do when you’re going to put your fingers inside yourself?”

“Jeez, Vegeta, it’s really hot even hearing you say that…I guess I think of kissing you…of tasting you. Of you slapping my ass. Of you bossing me around,” the adorable moron said, his eyes rolling up as he concentrated and kept spouting off completely candid answers.

“Get on your fucking knees, now,” Vegeta said. When Kakarot looked confused, Vegeta barked, “Now!”

Kakarot’s chest rose and fell faster and he flipped on his belly and rose up on his knees. Vegeta got back on his feet and walked around Kakarot, trailing a claw along his skin. Kakarot trembled under his touch. “Cross your arms, put your face on them, stick your taut ass in the air, Kakarot. Display yourself for me,” Vegeta commanded and came back around to Kakarot’s backside.

The sassy idiot looked at Vegeta, his breath coming fast, and said, “No.”

Vegeta slapped the hot fucking moron on his left ass cheek hard enough that he winced. “Down, now, Kakarot,” Vegeta said in a low, menacing voice.

“I want you to take it from me,” Kakarot whispered, “I want to fight.”

Vegeta’s eyebrows shot up. “To be clear, because I’m not a rapist, you want to fight until I fuck you?”

Kakarot’s whole body shook and the scent of his arousal flooded Vegeta’s nostrils. It was heady, delicious, and bittersweet. It was incredibly close to Raditz’s scent. Different enough though that Vegeta gave up trying to deny his sexual attraction to Kakarot for his own person.

Kakarot launched into him, but Vegeta’s senses, his speed, everything, were all preternaturally fast, a Saiyan on hyperdrive. Kakarot’s eyes went wide as Vegeta slammed him into the ground, kicked his face so hard that he flew into the river, and pinned him under the water. Kakarot struggled against Vegeta’s powerful, half-animal body, bucking his hips so they inadvertently frotted, and Vegeta smirked to see Kakarot’s eyelids flutter down at the sensation of their dicks sliding against one another in the frigid water. 

Vegeta’s moment of pleasant distraction was rewarded with Kakarot almost head-butting him. Being a werewolf saved Vegeta a broken nose and he took a handful of the delicious moron’s hair and flung him out of the river into the grass, pouncing after him. Vegeta landed on him, pinned his upper body down, but reached under him and took his cock in hand. 

That took the fight right out of the horny idiot. Vegeta twisted the bigger Saiyan’s thigh with his own, which had the dual effect of lifting his hip off the ground enough to give Vegeta maneuverability and immobilizing Kakarot in combination with the fistful of hair that Vegeta held in his other hand.

Vegeta began jerking Kakarot off vigorously. Kakarot moaned and bucked and pleaded, “Vegeta, oh gods, oh gods, what…what are you doing?”

“Surely you know what a hand-job is, I hope? If not, shame on the harpy, not even giving you that. No wonder you lust after me, you fool,” Vegeta snarled.

“No, I want…oh gods, Vegeta, oh gods, your hand…your hand is way better than my own…better than ChiChi’s…please, oh gods!” the responsive idiot was helpless against Vegeta’s brisk, rough movements. “I want you to fuck me, Vegeta! Please!”

“No!” Vegeta said gleefully. He pumped Kakarot’s hard, hot cock faster.

The big body beneath him shivered violently and Kakarot screamed as he spent himself in Vegeta’s hand. Vegeta slicked the cum over his cock. He slipped two fingers into Kakarot’s ass, still holding him motionless by his hair. Vegeta spread his fingers wide, opening Kakarot’s opening wider. Vegeta fingered Kakarot roughly, readying him for what Vegeta was going to do to him. 

Kakarot began to struggle and Vegeta filled with doubt. Yet when Vegeta yanked his hips up and slapped his ass so hard it left a big red handprint, the idiot whimpered with pleasure and whispered, “Please…”

Vegeta drove his cum-slick cock into Kakarot’s blissfully tight ass. He slapped Kakarot’s ass again and again with every thrust. Kakarot bucked wildly beneath him, whining and mewling and begging. Vegeta slammed into him, finally letting go of his hair so he could hold Kakarot’s hips so tightly his claws dripped with Kakarot’s blood.

Vegeta’s mouth filled with saliva and he took the idiot’s lush black hair in one hand again, yanking him upright and arching him back. Vegeta hissed, “You are fucking _mine_ now, Kakarot. _You_ are my vengeance. I am claiming you as _mine_. I will kill your woman if I must, but you are no longer your own, you are no longer hers, you are fucking _mine_!” Vegeta sank his sharp teeth, his long canines, into the bulging muscle where the perfect fucking idiot’s neck connected to his shoulder.

Vegeta groaned at the taste of Kakarot’s blood. His cock lengthened more, he went super-Saiyan-werewolf, and he fucked up hard into Kakarot until they both wailed with pleasure. Kakarot’s tight, sweet ass began twitching and spasming on Vegeta’s cock and as he tightened his bite, Kakarot’s ass gripped Vegeta’s prick so hard that Vegeta came too. He kept his hold on Kakarot and drove up into him ruthlessly, every spurt of his seed feeling better than any sex Vegeta had had up until that moment.

Kakarot bellowed and Vegeta saw another pearly rope of semen jet out of him onto the grass. Vegeta released Kakarot’s hip and slapped his ass again. Kakarot impressed Vegeta: a whole new orgasm ripped through the larger Saiyan’s body as a fresh pulsing batch of cum shot almost straight up. Kakarot’s ass did more magical things to Vegeta’s cock.

Vegeta slowed, but didn’t stop, as he pulled his bloodied jaws off Kakarot’s shoulder. Kakarot gasped, “I know you hate me, but I love you, Vegeta. I love you so much,” and he collapsed forward, hiding his face in his forearms on the grass, probably smearing his own giz all over himself. The firelight flickered beautifully on Kakarot’s skin.

Vegeta kissed softly all over Kakarot’s skin. He murmured, “You fucking idiot, of course I don’t hate you. I love you too. Now you’re mine. But you’re still a fucking moron.”

Vegeta could hear Kakarot’s smile as he said, “You love me back?”

“Yes, see, this is what I mean. Always having to repeat myself. Yes, I love you, clown. I love fucking you too, because you’re fucking _mine._ How’s that for vengeance?” Vegeta said with a chuckle.

Kakarot said, “Oh man, Vegeta, you can take vengeance on me any time. You’re great at vengeance. That vengeance felt so good.”

Vegeta laughed more and smacked Kakarot’s ass as he pulled out and flopped on his back in the grass. “Hmm…we’ll see. I can’t let you get used to anything. I’ll have to keep you on your toes as part of your training. Maybe make sweet, gentle love to you occasionally,” Vegeta said, smirking at Kakarot who had his head close to Vegeta’s. 

His dark puppy-eyes shimmered in the firelight. He leaned with wide eyes and kissed Vegeta. “I’ll leave it all up to you, Vegeta. Since I’m yours now,” the pretty moron said, and moved above Vegeta.

“That you are. Mine. Always,” Vegeta purred and slapped his ass again. “My sweet vengeance.”


	6. Tricks and Treats

Dende was sick of Piccolo being gentle with him. They’d been mated for over three years and Piccolo always worried about hurting Dende, causing him pain. But Dende _liked_ pain. It turned him on. Sure, Piccolo would slap his ass every now and again, but even then, Piccolo treated Dende like a human. But Dende wasn’t a human. He was a Namek with a taste for a little pain with his pleasure.

It was Halloween, which seemed a fitting night, so Dende made a little plan. He wouldn’t normally use his magic on Piccolo. Desperate times, however.

Dende had the power to enthrall another person. Not any person, but particularly a person who loved Dende and wasn’t…prepared. Piccolo never had his guard up around Dende. Dende could delve into Piccolo’s mind whenever he wished. Dende allowed Piccolo the same privilege, but Piccolo rarely did it the way Dende did. It was obviously more tiring for Dende’s big Namek mate, no matter how powerful he was. Piccolo never minded Dende digging insouciantly around in Piccolo’s mind.

Dende’s magic and telepathy had grown over his years of being the Guardian of Earth so that he was a much more powerful mage than Piccolo. Dende dressed up for Halloween, not in the traditional costumed sense, but in a festive way. He wore silvery skinny jeans with a tracery of black spiderwebs all over the fabric. Over top he wore an orange cashmere sweater that fit him nicely. It showed off his lithe, petite physique. Piccolo liked it when Dende dressed up a little for him, though Dende’s brusque mate would never admit such a thing.

Piccolo was out taking Pan and Bulla trick-or-treating, so their parents could attend the masquerade at Capsule Corp. Dende didn’t mind Piccolo’s absence. It gave him a little time to prepare himself to get into Piccolo’s head.

It was well after dark when Piccolo returned home to the Lookout. Dende laid out their small table with a light meal. He was sure that Piccolo had eaten more of the two demi-Saiyan girls’ candy than he would ever admit to the girls or Dende.

“Hey, baby, you like sexy and festive in your spidery jeans. You gonna let me peel you out of those later?” Piccolo said, bending to kiss Dende as he threw off his pea coat. Piccolo looked nice too, in a dark purple henley and dark jeans. He toed off his boots and hooked his arm around Dende’s waist. He picked Dende up and kissed him deeply.

Dende let Piccolo get into the kiss enough that he wondered if Piccolo would even want to eat or cut straight to the main event of fucking Dende senseless. Dende could go either way. Anticipation was its own treat. Especially with something new.

“Did you have fun with the girls?” Dende asked casually when Piccolo finally released him.

“Sure, I scare the hell out of most kids in the gloom. I love it. Bulla loves it. Pan cries about it. She wants everyone to like her, just like her fucking grandfather. Poor girl. But yeah, I had a good time. Though if I’d known you were gonna be up here looking so fine, I might not have had such a good time.”

“Well, the night is young, darling. Let’s eat and then we can see what else awaits us on this hallowed eve. Maybe you can do a little trick-or-treating of your own. See if you can’t find something sweet to put in your mouth, hmm?” Dende said, giving his mate a little smirk as he made a plate for Piccolo.

“I like the sound of that,” Piccolo said, grinning.

Dende could feel that Piccolo’s guard was down entirely, so he sent out feelers, gentle nudges in Piccolo’s mind. Suggestions. Dende started with food. He prodded Piccolo’s mind to put a grape on a cracker and eat it. Piccolo did, seemingly without thinking it was a bizarre combination.

Piccolo chattered idly about the different costumes he’d seen. The costumes the adults had worn. Costumes he and Dende might adorn their own children in once they were ready to have them. It had been a bit of a battle to get Piccolo to wait, but Dende had triumphed without the use of magic, suggesting that it might be fun to have a few years mated to enjoy each other uninterrupted before throwing a hatchling in the mix.

Dende watched as his suggestions gradually controlled Piccolo like a puppet. It wasn’t as though Piccolo was unconscious of the actions, it was more that he thought they were his own ideas. But they were Dende testing his reach. There would be more resistance to the things he had in mind for the evening. Piccolo’s desire to keep Dende safe and unharmed was strong. That was why Dende was making sure he had a firm hold on Piccolo’s reins before Piccolo became aware of what Dende was doing.

Dende made Piccolo stand up and pull off his shirt. He slipped out of his jeans, free-balling as usual, so Dende had his big, muscular mate naked in two moves. “Piccolo, darling, take me to the bedroom. Roughly.”

Piccolo’s face showed the first signs of concern. Dende tried to dodge Piccolo’s hold and Piccolo grabbed his hips and slung Dende’s light frame over his shoulder.

“Slap my ass like you always want to, darling. Not the way you do normally. A real slap,” Dende said.

Piccolo really smacked Dende’s ass. It stung. Dende began to get hard. A grin crept onto his face. Piccolo made a strange noise and said, “I…Um…Dende…are you…are you okay?”

“I’m excellent, darling. Aren’t you annoyed at my clothing? Don’t you want to get your hands on my body?” Dende said and tried to suppress his mirth. Piccolo was approaching the point where he would realize that Dende had his brain by the stem, but he hadn’t figured it out yet.

Piccolo tossed Dende on the bed and yanked his jeans off with one fast tug, without even bothering to unbutton or unzip them. Dende, unlike his big mate, did not enjoy going commando. He wore a tight pair of bright purple boxer-briefs, but they did nothing to hide how excited he was for his mate to get to ravishing him. Piccolo pushed Dende’s sweater up, nipping and biting along Dende’s abs and chest harder than he ever had. He left a trail of bloody fang-marks.

Dende’s cock ached pleasantly with every new wound. Now he suggested lightly to Piccolo that he bind Dende’s hands behind his back, that he gag Dende. Dende didn’t bother with verbal suggestions.

Piccolo’s eyes widened as he waved his hand and produced a chi ring that tugged Dende’s hands behind his back, pinning them together just tight enough that there would be no escape, but Dende wouldn’t lose circulation in his hands and fingers. Piccolo rolled Dende onto his hands, adding some strain to Dende’s shoulders. Piccolo’s face looked worried now.

Dende whispered, “I love it, darling, you know that.”

“Dende…” was the best Piccolo could do by way of protest. Dende’s grip on Piccolo was tight. The larger Namek, Dende’s sexy mate, was fully enthralled now and Piccolo wouldn’t get full control back without a very concerted effort. Dende hoped that Piccolo wouldn’t put up that much of a fight.

“Gag?” Dende said, “You wouldn’t want me casting spells on you, Piccolo, if you’re going to be so naughty. Tying me up to have your way with me. How deviant, darling.”

Piccolo’s eyes narrowed, but he found a ball gag in the bottom drawer of their bedside table. Piccolo struggled to at least control his mouth. “You sure?” Piccolo asked.

“Very,” Dende purred, the last he would purr for a while.

Piccolo put the ball gag in Dende’s mouth and Dende’s cock got even harder. He could feel Piccolo’s excitement too, even if it was mixed with some distress about what they were doing. Dende nudged the worry to the back of Piccolo’s mind, trying to make sure that his mate enjoyed what they were about to do.

Piccolo roughly dragged Dende to the edge of the bed and Dende got excited. This was all Piccolo. He hadn’t even suggested this to Piccolo. A little glint shone in Piccolo’s dark eyes. He tore Dende’s boxers off, not even bothering to try to save them from his strength. He cast them aside with an even bigger smirk. Piccolo said, with effort, “You little minx, I know what you’re doing. You might get more than you bargained for. What’s the saying? You come for the king, you best not miss.”

Dende’s heart thundered in his chest. Was it possible his brutal mate was finally going to bring some of that rough, rugged attitude to the bedroom? Dende had tried again and again over the years to make Piccolo understand how much his battle acumen and ruthlessness appealed to Dende. Even though Dende was no warrior, not even a little, and was squeamish about any sort of fighting on a moral level, that made being manhandled all the more titillating for him. He liked the idea that Piccolo would contain his enormous power, that he would fine tune it to find that sweet line that made Dende tremble just to consider. The place where pain and pleasure became the same thing for him.

Piccolo slammed Dende’s knees up on either side of his shoulders. At the same time, Piccolo made the chi bind on his hands disappear. “You thought you could enthrall me, did you, hmm? Is that what you thought you were doing, baby?” Piccolo said, his voice rough and throaty. Piccolo’s cock dripped with pre-cum. That only made Dende hotter.

Dende couldn’t respond, of course, thanks to the ball gag. Piccolo laughed and Dende’s arms were forced to stretch out, long and straight, immobilized by unseen bonds. His eyes widened. His loins clenched. Piccolo put a chi band around the back of Dende’s knees wide and high so Dende’s ass was completely open and exposed, all of his most private parts bared entirely for his mate, with no escape.

Piccolo slapped first Dende’s left ass cheek, then his right. Not gentle slaps. These were real slaps at last. Even if Piccolo wasn’t enthralled, Dende’s heart skittered that maybe the effort in itself finally made clear to Piccolo how badly Dende wanted this. How he hungered for Piccolo to be rough with him. To manhandle him. To dominate him. That was what Dende needed.

“Alright, baby, I believe you now. But you can’t be properly dominated, properly fucked, if you’re running me, right? I can’t truly make you submit to me if you’re controlling me like a puppet? I think I’m going to have to punish you for that, Dende,” Piccolo growled and slapped Dende’s ass more before waving his hand over Dende’s chest.

Dende gasped with the perfect mix of pleasure and pain as magical nipple clamps clipped tight on both nipples. Piccolo reached forward and trailed his finger from Dende’s chin down his neck and onto his sternum. Dende moaned as Piccolo hooked his forefinger under a light chain connecting the nipple clamps. Piccolo gave it a little tug and said, “Behave, baby, don’t even try that bullshit again, or I _will_ punish you. Understand?”

Dende considered for the space of a breath before he shook his head “no.” Piccolo tugged the chain with one hand and swatted Dende’s ass. The combination was incredible. Piccolo said no more, it was clear he wasn’t going to let Dende push him into such sweet “punishments” repeatedly.

Piccolo dropped to his knees on the floor by the bed. Dende could barely see him. The arm restraints were so tight that it was awkward to lift his head off the bed. But Dende didn’t need to see anything as Piccolo’s tongue found his opening and without preamble, delved inside Dende.

Dende moaned around his ball gag. Piccolo’s large, strong hand spread Dende’s ass open and Piccolo began ruthlessly tongue-fucking Dende. Piccolo’s tongue, from the very beginning of their relationship, had turned Dende into a humping, pleading mess. Piccolo’s tongue was stronger than a tongue ought to be. It was damn near prehensile and now it slid inside Dende and did magical things. Piccolo drove into his ass hard with that hot, wet muscle. Dende panted around the ball gag, his fangs cutting into the rubber.

Dende tried to scream when Piccolo began to do something that felt like he was twisting his tongue into a corkscrew. Dende was already on the brink of his orgasm. If Piccolo kept tongue-fucking him that way, there was no hope of him lasting more than another minute.

Piccolo abruptly stopped. Dende whimpered and received a rough smack on the ass. A painful smack. It was delicious and Dende groaned. That earned him one on the other cheek and a light tug on the chain, but the sensation, when Dende was so close to his climax was insanely good.

Piccolo stood up and bent to lazily stroke Dende’s cock with light pressure. Dende bucked his hips toward it, so close to coming that he only needed a tiny bit more stimulation. If Piccolo twisted his hand on Dende’s pre-cum slick head even once, Dende would come hard.

But Piccolo had other plans. He stopped touching Dende entirely. Dende’s big mate gave him a seductive half-smile and slid his finger under the chain and softly and rhythmically pulled on it. Piccolo’s other hand wrapped around his own big cock.

Piccolo made lube pour out of his palm as he ran his hand over his prick. He shifted closer to Dende and with his other hand, he fondled Dende’s balls just a bit. Piccolo’s deep voice rumbled, “Mmm…I like you like this, baby. You look sexy so desperate for your release. But you are nowhere near getting it. So naughty to enthrall me. Were you just pretending to care about my evening out trick-or-treating while you were putting your sneaky little tendrils in my mind?”

Dende couldn’t help the smile that tried to form around the ball gag. Piccolo laughed and said, “I think this is your form of trick-or-treating. You groan and hope I’ll slap your sweet little ass hard enough to bruise. But I don’t want to be so predictable. I guess I didn’t realize how desperate you were for me to rough you up a little while I fuck the hell out of you. Is that what you want, baby? You want me to fuck the hell out of you?”

Dende did his best to nod. His orgasm had receded while Piccolo stroked himself. But that didn’t mean Dende wasn’t insanely turned on, because he was. Nodding was either the wrong or the right answer depending on one’s perspective.

Piccolo eased a slick finger inside Dende. Piccolo had long, strong fingers, that seemed drawn to Dende’s prostate like a magnet. Piccolo slammed his finger into Dende’s p-spot over and over, fluid pouring out of Dende’s cock. He was on the brink of coming again when Piccolo withdrew suddenly.

Dende couldn’t decide whether he loved the edging or wanted to make the ball gag disappear to beg Piccolo to finish him off. His whole pelvis throbbed like Piccolo had filled it with boiling water. He needed Piccolo to release the steam. The pressure built and was painful, but a good kind of pain. A sweet kind of pain. Dende wanted this treat.

He panted around his ball gag. Piccolo’s eyelids were falling heavily. “You know, baby, I think I’m going to come all over you. I think I’m going to make myself come over and over while I tease you until you come so hard you bite through that ball gag while I slap your ass so viciously that you cry.”

Dende tried to contain his moan. He wanted Piccolo to do exactly that, but he was afraid that if his mate felt how badly he needed that, Piccolo might take it away as a different form of torment.

Dende watched Piccolo jerk himself off with delight. One of Dende’s great joys was watching Piccolo pleasure himself. The first time Piccolo was shy about it, but now he understood how much Dende enjoyed it. Piccolo’s head lolled back and his mouth opened with a guttural moan. Piccolo’s cum hit Dende’s ass in big, wet spatters, but Piccolo kept pumping himself and arced some of it onto Dende’s cock. Dende’s favorite thing about Piccolo jerking off was when Piccolo came on his prick.

Dende moaned helplessly and his hips rolled up to try to frot with Piccolo as he leaned his knees on the edge of the bed to get the last few drops of his cum on Dende’s cock and balls as well. He finally finished, breathing hard, and he grinned down at Dende.

Piccolo whispered, “That felt great. I love coming on you, baby. But I don’t think I’m done with you yet. I think you still need a bit more punishment. What do you think?”

Before Dende could answer, Piccolo used his enormous height and particularly the disparity between the two men and climbed gracefully above Dende. His knees were spread on either side of Dende’s torso and he curled down. Piccolo’s flexibility was incredible. Piccolo yanked the ball gag free and kissed Dende deeply.

“Baby, since you were trying to cast a spell on me, so much that I had to gag you, it seems fitting that part of your punishment be putting something else in your mouth. So open up, baby, open up wide. I hope you didn’t fill up at dinner.”

Dende panted and opened his mouth, his eyes wide and his breathing ragged. He loved sucking his mate’s cock. This was another area that Piccolo tended to defer to Dende’s petite size more than his massive appetite. Piccolo always worried about gagging Dende with his big, beautiful prick. Dende loved that cock though and wanted Piccolo to really fuck his mouth. Piccolo had never once properly fucked Dende’s mouth.

Piccolo braced himself so that he could fuck down into Dende’s mouth without letting Dende out of any of his restraints. He could also reach around behind himself and tug the nipple chain. Which he did, making Dende cry out. Piccolo’s other hand was near Dende’s and he tangled a few of their fingers together. Dende loved his mate. Even while dominating Dende, he was tender and loving.

Dende’s jaw popped as he opened it wide. Piccolo rolled his hips so just his tip bobbed in and out of Dende’s mouth. Dende flicked his tongue to lap at the cum that clung to Piccolo’s slit. Piccolo moaned. Piccolo dipped his cock farther into Dende’s mouth, the deepest he ever pushed his cock into Dende’s mouth.

Dende lifted his head to take more. He wanted to take Piccolo as deep in his throat as he could, gagging be damned. Piccolo withdrew completely. Dende growled in irritation. Piccolo arched back and slapped Dende’s ass hard. He complimented the stinging blow with a firm tug on the nipple chain. Dende gasped at the pleasure both sensations caused in his burning loins. His prick twitched eagerly.

Piccolo said, “I’m going to fuck your mouth, baby. Really fuck your mouth. Squeeze my left fingers three times for a safe word, yeah?”

“Yes, oh gods, yes, please,” Dende pleaded. His mouth filled with saliva and he ached to have his mate fuck him this way. His throat relaxed, ready to accommodate Piccolo’s long, thick cock. It had been ready for years.

Piccolo shifted his hips more so he could really drive down into Dende’s mouth. He gave Dende his full length. Dende didn’t gag, but it filled his throat so completely that Dende would have to gasp for air in between thrusts or suffocate. There were worse ways to go than suffocating on Piccolo’s cock. Dende’s mouth was slick and he pushed his tongue against the underside of Piccolo’s prick, found the throbbing vein and traced it as Piccolo withdrew.

Piccolo made a few slow, deep, powerful thrusts before he sped up. After only a few minutes, he was fucking Dende’s face frantically. Dende loved that he could take his mate that way. He’d gagged a few times, but mostly he could use his throat muscles to add pressure to Piccolo’s cock. His tongue grew tired as Piccolo chased his second orgasm down Dende’s throat.

Dende purred as Piccolo gasped, “Oh fuck, baby, baby, I’m gonna come so hard in your mouth. I’m so ready. Are you ready, baby? Hum around my cock if you want my cum. You want my cum?”

Dende hummed and Piccolo roared as he pumped even harder into Dende’s mouth. The volume of Piccolo’s cum surprised Dende for a second orgasm. He gagged a little more, but Piccolo slowed in time for him to swallow before it got uncomfortable. Dende’s prick ached with the pleasure of making Piccolo climax that hard. That Dende pulled that much of Piccolo’s seed out of him only made Dende hornier.

Piccolo sat back on his heels so his ass rested almost on Dende’s cock. Dende bucked his hips to get a little pressure on the tip of his dick. Dende was still very close to coming and he thought nudging Piccolo’s bud would be enough to push him over the edge.

Piccolo knew exactly what Dende was trying to do, though, so he quickly lifted his ass out of range and yanked on the nipple chain. He tightened the chi clamps so Dende had constant, delicious, border-of-pain pressure on both. Dende screamed as Piccolo sent a little burst of chi into each nipple. A vibration that seemed to jump straight from Dende’s nipples to his balls.

“Piccolo! Oh gods!” Dende groaned. He hoped now Piccolo would fuck him at last. But Dende wouldn’t beg yet. He wanted Piccolo to have his way with Dende in every way he saw fit.

Piccolo lazily reached behind himself and curled a finger inside Dende’s ass again. Dende moaned and arched toward it. Piccolo took it away and swatted his ass. “No, baby, you lay and take my finger. You submit to me,” Piccolo growled.

Piccolo thrust his finger back inside Dende and Dende wailed, bucked up, and the finger abandoned him again. Dende loved the cycle of stimulation and absence. It ached, but it was also thrilling. Piccolo liked it too. He’d gone soft after the blow-job, but after only a minute of teasing Dende’s ass, Piccolo was rock hard again, pre-cum sliding down the underside of his cock in heavy droplets.

Piccolo stared into Dende’s eyes as he made Dende gasp and moan and finally, when Dende’s cock felt like it might explode, Dende whispered, “Please, fuck me, darling. Please!” He meant it too, but he wasn’t sure if Piccolo would give him dick after Dende’s attempt to enthrall Piccolo.

Piccolo smirked at him and lithely climbed off the bed. He situated his knees on the edge of the mattress. He slicked lube over his cock and stared into Dende’s eyes. His eyes narrowed and Dende felt Piccolo rifling around in his mind, exploring Dende’s feelings. It was sensual to have his mate do such a thing as Piccolo pushed his thick cock into Dende’s tight, eager ass.

Dende whimpered with pleasure, but tried to keep himself quiet for fear Piccolo’s cock was like the finger and would go away if Dende appreciated it too vocally. Dende’s eyes slid closed and his head rolled back as Piccolo rammed himself deep into Dende. One long thrust and he was balls deep in Dende. Dende couldn’t stifle his ecstatic cry.

Piccolo slammed down into him, smacking his ass freely with one hand. His other held the nipple chain and in addition to the occasional little tug, every few thrusts, Piccolo sent a thrilling bolt of chi racing through both nipples. It seemed like the chain ran right inside Dende to his core.

He was a screaming, pleading mess when Piccolo withdrew entirely. Dende begged, “Oh gods, Piccolo, oh gods, please, no, I’m so close!”

“You wait until I give you permission. I’ll tell you when you can come, Dende, and I’m not there. Don’t push me on this. You want my cock in you, right?”

“Yes, you feel so good, Piccolo. Please. I’ll do as you say.”

“Your ass is twitching like you’re about to come, baby,” Piccolo observed, running his fingers up and down over Dende’s opening.

“I can control it for you, darling. I’d do anything for you. I’ll be obedient. I’ll wait. I belong to you, darling,” Dende whispered desperately. Even Piccolo’s fingertips on his ass were driving Dende wild. He hoped he could keep his promise to his mate.

Piccolo plunged his head in and out, just that much. Dende whined. It felt incredible, but it wouldn’t take Dende over the edge. Piccolo growled, “Make my cock feel good. I’m going to give it to you, but you need to make my cock feel good, you understand? Work your tight little ass, baby. Work my prick and I’ll let you come.”

Dende’s whole body quivered with the effort of not coming, but he obeyed his love. He focused his mind on clenching on Piccolo deliberately as Piccolo pistoned into Dende, driving into him hard and fast. Piccolo fucked Dende ruthlessly. Piccolo fucked Dende the way he fought, the way he trained, the way Dende needed.

“Fuck, Dende, squeeze my cock with your perfect ass. Grip me, baby. Grip it hard, don’t let it go!” Piccolo commanded and slapped Dende’s ass, sending a stinging surge of pleasure through Dende. It almost pushed Dende over the edge. Dende stared into Piccolo’s eyes and he tightened his ass, added delicious pressure for both of them, and Dende held it relentlessly.

Piccolo’s eyes fluttered shut and he hissed, “Come, baby, come and let your ass squeeze my pleasure out of me!”

Dende wailed with ecstasy as he let himself go. His cum splattered his face and he tasted it as he couldn’t stop crying out Piccolo’s name. His ass seized and clenched and spasmed on Piccolo’s throbbing cock. Dende felt Piccolo’s hot spurts coating his core and it made Dende’s cock shoot off another heavy jet of semen. Dende gasped and struggled against his bindings, wanting to wrap his whole body around his mate.

Piccolo surged into him a few more times, and he must have heard Dende’s wish, because the restraints disappeared and Dende’s arms and legs flew around Piccolo’s big, muscular body. Piccolo slowed his thrusts as he hummed happily and kissed Dende’s mouth. Piccolo smirked against Dende’s lips as he gave him another bruising slap on the ass.

“Baby, you are very naughty. You really wanted that, huh? Trying to mind-control me? Really?”

Dende gave him an innocent smile and said, “You don’t need to be careful with me, Piccolo. I don’t need the full dungeon treatment, but this was amazing. Didn’t you enjoy yourself, darling?”

“Yeah, I did. I worry about causing you pain, though. It makes me nervous.”

“I have healing magic, darling, you don’t need to stress. We have a safe word that I have never once needed. I would be okay with needing it.”

Piccolo smirked and gave him a rough kiss. He said, “I know, I know. I’ll try to do what you need more often. I guess I got my treat tonight, even if your trick didn’t work.”

“Mmm…I got my treat too. My delicious, painful treat. I love you, darling,” Dende whispered, pulling Piccolo’s mouth down to his.

Piccolo shifted them both farther onto the bed and said, “I certainly hope you don’t think I’m done for the night. You don’t stop after one trick or one treat, right?”

“Gods, no!” Dende said, his heart beginning to race, “We’ll have to keep going until we’re full, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, baby, I want to make sure you get plenty of treats too,” Piccolo purred and kissed Dende the way Dende wanted, just enough fang to give him a little thrill of pain. He explored Piccolo’s mind and found Piccolo liked it too.

Dende grinned, tasted their blood mingling, and made his own chi binds as he flipped Piccolo onto his back. “And you, darling? Trick-or-treat?”

Piccolo’s smirk gave Dende his answer and he said, “You couldn’t dominate me if you tried, baby, but—“

Dende pushed the ball gag into Piccolo’s mouth and whispered, “Well, can’t having you enthralling me either, darling. Open up and take your first treat.”


	7. The Bonds of Friendship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final Halloweenie! Piccolo and Bulma scheme to make Piccolo's Halloween more interesting and Vegeta's too.

Piccolo and Bulma had been secret friends for years. All the Z-fighters assumed they knew everything about everyone, but the only two people who knew everything about everyone were Piccolo and Bulma. They were both shameless snoops and gossips. With each other. Bulma gathered information that people willingly shared. Piccolo’s hearing meant he gathered that which they whispered. Together, he and Bulma knew all sorts of things.

Bulma knew and gloated to Piccolo, for example, that since her and Vegeta had split after the whole Majin Buu mass murder episode, Vegeta had been living on his own in a sad room in the basement of Capsule Corp, abjectly miserable. But not because he missed Bulma. Bulma loved to be nosy, so she skulked around, with her ear to the ground. Vegeta trusted no one, so he was the most challenging of all the Z-fighters to gossip about. But Bulma found his weakness in the shape of a little black kitty.

She told Piccolo that the first time she’d discovered Vegeta’s affinity for Scratch had been when they were still together. She heard him eating in the kitchen, prattling on like he was talking to his very best friend in the world, except Vegeta didn’t have anyone he actually _liked_. Naturally, as his girlfriend, she was very curious who managed to elicit _chatter_ from Vegeta. Peeking into the kitchen, she saw Scratch sitting on the table, contentedly taking scraps while Vegeta told him all about the things he’d done in training, Trunks’s latest antics, and even what he and Bulma had done in bed the night before.

Bulma crept away, but never missed an opportunity to spy when Vegeta was baring his soul to the only creature he seemed to truly trust. Which was how Piccolo found himself in his current position as they gossiped together the night before Halloween at a bar they knew none of the Z-fighters ever frequented. Well, they may have technically crossed into Halloween, but Piccolo wasn’t the sort to nitpick.

“Piccolo, I’m not kidding, I heard him! He’s told Scratch more than once. He’s been trying to figure out what to do about it, but it’s been stressing him out. He apparently wanted it before he knocked me up by accident. Come on, you can’t be that surprised. You are the _only_ person he ever willingly spends time with.”

“Yeah…but not even really on purpose. He just uses me as an excuse not to train with Goku,” Piccolo said, chased the words with a swallow of liquor. He didn’t want Bulma to hear the hope in his voice.

Bulma tucked her chin so she could give him an imperious glare from under delicately furrowed, exquisitely maintained blue eyebrows. “You don’t fool me for even a minute. You two are perfect for each other. You’re both formerly wicked baddies turned into the sweet sort of squish-balls that talk to cats because you’re too afraid someone might find out you have feelings. It’s adorable. You two will probably sit around blushing in silence for an hour and then fuck like crazy and it will be so hot!”

Piccolo, to his deep chagrin, blushed at the thought. His cheeks were not the only thing to heat up. “Gods, Bulma, inside voices. You talk that loud and he’s bound to hear you.”

“We’re miles away from Capsule Corp.”

“I know, but he’s got feelers for anyone speaking about him. He’s like a reverse Beetlejuice: instead of appearing and haunting you if you say his name three times, he _disappears_ and you never see him again,” Piccolo said, and knocked back the rest of his martini. No point in being sober for the rest of this undoubtedly overly detailed conversation.

“So, here’s what I’m thinking. My mom watches too much HGTV—“

“Uh, yeah, I know, we do it together. What kind of rabbit farmer who’s married to a custom daiquiri designer can afford a seven figure house? Who are these people? Why do their parents let them go on TV?” Piccolo truly wanted the answers to these questions.

“Stop waylaying my plans, Piccolo,” Bulma commanded.

He smirked at her and said, “And you call me and Vegeta wicked. You’re the fucking wicked one. You’re trying to get your ex laid. What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m trying to get my secret best friend laid. I just happen to know that the only person my secret best friend really wants to sleep with is Vegeta. He can’t know I had anything to do with this. And come on, Piccolo, you need a boyfriend and Vegeta is so perfect for you!” Bulma said bouncing in her seat.

“It’s upsetting that you think that. Insulting, even.”

“He’s really good in bed,” Bulma said and wiggled her eyebrows.

Piccolo rolled his eyes and said, “Yeah, you’ve told me so many very TMI stories that I feel almost obligated to investigate their veracity. Still though, he’s pretty emotionally stunted and—“

“You are sitting in a weird, hole-in-the-wall bar with me because you don’t want anyone to know that you have a friend. Let’s not get into measures of emotional stuntedness,” Bulma said and clinked her glass to his.

“Fuck off, but fine. Point. What’s your ridiculous plan and what does HGTV have to do with it?”

“Okay, so my mom got a wild hair from some gothic fixer upper episode and you know my dad can’t say no to her, so she bought that fixer-upper over on 69th, you know the one I’m talking about?”

“You mean the one that Trunks is obsessed with it being haunted, but really I think he and Goten are just sneaking in there to make out because it’s on 69th?” Piccolo said and pounded another martini.

“The very same. Well…I thought I could chain you up in it, you know, suggestively, and then tell Vegeta that Trunks was freaking out about something he heard over there while they were out trick-or-treating and would he pretty-please go check it out in case it was kids vandalizing it for a Halloween prank.”

“Wait,” Piccolo said and held up a hand. Yup, he was drunk. Fucking Bulma. “Okay, so the second half is fine, but why do I have to be chained up? And how the hell are you going to chain me up…suggestively? What does that even mean?”

“It means that I think he might be unable to resist you if he…rescues you,” Bulma said and cocked her head to the side thoughtfully, like more ideas were occurring to her.

“That is dumb as hell. He would know immediately that it was a ruse. I could break any chains that exist on Earth without even breaking a sweat,” Piccolo said and slumped in the booth. He shouldn’t have let Bulma get his drunk hopes up. He expected better of her.

“So, here’s the fun part… _I_ have chains that can hold you. I’ve been experimenting on Trunks to make a Saiyan restraint system in case Vegeta ever got it in his head to go all Majin again—“

“Bulma, it’s been years—“

“Whatever. Maybe I just like the idea of being able to overpower a Saiyan in some way. Maybe my son tried in a very sideways manner to ask if I could make Saiyan-proof restraints because apparently we’re both still pretending he’s not fucking Goten constantly. But the real problem is that you’re going to have to convince him that you don’t know who or what restrained you. I’ll have Trunks really play up the haunted factor and then you can act all bewildered and stuff. You can be all shy and embarrassed too, if that helps you get into the act—“

Piccolo gulped down another martini. In for four martinis, in for five. Or penny, pound. Whatever. Piccolo probably should have stopped after two. He slurred, interrupting, “What d’ya’mean? Jus’ cuz I got trapped and chained up?”

“No. There’s oooone other little thing,” Bulma chirped. She flagged the waitress. Another martini appeared.

Piccolo knew rationally it was a bad idea. But that didn’t stop him. Bad ideas had never stopped him. Including Bulma’s bad ideas. So it was bottoms up. He snickered to himself, imagining Vegeta’s perfect fucking ass in the air, waiting for Piccolo. Piccolo leaned heavily on the table and said, “Wha? Wha’s other thing?”

“Oh no, Piccolo, are you drunk?” Bulma said and Piccolo was not so drunk that he didn’t see the glint in her eye.

“Fuck, is thi’ par’ yur plan?” Piccolo tried to enunciate, but his tongue was just fucking unruly. Like his blue-haired companion. “Dammit, Bulma!”

“Yeah…nighty night, Piccolo. Sweet dreams!”

Only then did Piccolo realize he was more than drunk. His godsdamned best friend had drugged him. Goten and Trunks appeared near her as Piccolo clung to his last moments of consciousness. The last words he heard Bulma say were, “Great timing, guys, let’s go.”

* * *

Piccolo woke surprised to find that his head didn’t hurt. Well, at least his best friend used good drugs when she drugged him. True to her word and the barest minimum of Piccolo’s consent, he was somehow chained to a bed made of the same godsdamned alloy as the gravity room, he’d wager. And of course he was gagged. A heavy gag too, it was hard to even move his mouth.

Piccolo blinked a few times. It was dark, but the moon was full. It shone in the big balcony window of what was obviously a fairly grand master suite. It needed work, certainly, but the layout was lovely. Piccolo wasn’t surprised. He did watch too much HGTV with Panchy.

Piccolo could see his restraints and they were a similar flat gray color to the bed. He gave an experimental tug on them and nothing, no movement at all. That worried him. Surely Bulma hadn’t actually developed a Saiyan restraint system. They had cuffs! Were Trunks and Goten that into BDSM? Piccolo growled and put his muscles to work. They bulged and strained and he growled, but nothing happened.

There was a tiny amount of slack in the chains, but not enough to get any momentum. Piccolo tried magic. Again, there was no change. That cagey bitch. These were more than Saiyan restraints. They were magic proof. That was irritating as hell.

Piccolo snorted in irritation. Bulma’s plan was stupid. If Piccolo couldn’t break the chains, he knew Vegeta wouldn’t be able to break them either. Upon thinking of Vegeta, Piccolo took stock of his body and tucked his chin to look down. He was spread-eagled on the bed. He stared in confusion for a minute.

He was naked. Except for what appeared to be a black man-thong with the glow in the dark words: Trick-or-Treat. What was Bulma’s theory for how this would play out? That Vegeta would be so overcome with lust upon seeing Piccolo’s naked body that he would just profess his love and commence the fucking? Vegeta would be horrified and embarrassed. No wonder Bulma and Vegeta didn’t work out, it was like she didn’t understand the man at all.

A peal of creepy, wicked laughter floated up from the first floor of the house. Piccolo’s skin prickled. It didn’t sound recorded. A second, softer, evil snicker echoed up the stairwell. Piccolo’s eyes widened as a steady _thump-drag, thump-drag, thump-drag_ began making its way closer to the room within which Piccolo was well and truly trapped. He tried again to break the chains.

 _Thump-drag,_ cackle, _thump-drag,_ dry, husky laugh. Whatever asshole kid was pulling this prank was now on the second floor. Piccolo would feel considerably less freaked out if he weren’t in a fucking pair of panties. Piccolo’s skin beaded up with a cold sweat. The limping noise stopped. Piccolo could hear heavy, raspy breathing. Wet, sloppy breathing.

Piccolo didn’t think of himself as a coward, he’d seen enough crazy shit, fought against enough insane monsters to not scare easily, but this was different. Piccolo felt vulnerable without clothes or movement. The best he could do was shout. Gods, was this what humans felt like all the time? But Piccolo wasn’t even certain the loud visitor knew he was there, so making noise might not be advantageous. What if it was just some poor vagrant looking for a place to avoid the torment of teenage-asshole trick-or-treaters?

Piccolo took a silent, deep breath. Tried to calm his racing heart. A soft tap-tap on the broad balcony made him slowly turn his head, terrified that another creature had found a way onto the balcony. _Oh fuck,_ Piccolo thought, because another creature certainly had. Vegeta stood on the balcony in a tight pair of gray, high-waisted trousers, a black leather vest, and a fucking blouse with a ruffled collar. Knee-high black, high-heeled suede boots, black leather gloves, and a cane. Piccolo almost squealed to see Vegeta’s wild blond hair. Vegeta’s eyes had dramatic silvery make-up. He wore one dark contact, giving him one vivid blue eye, one dark brown one.

Vegeta was not only dressed up for Halloween, he was dressed up as fucking Jareth from _Labyrinth_. Piccolo, given a few moments of fantasizing, was fairly certain he could come in his man-panties just from the blissful image before him.

Vegeta strutted into the dark room. He turned back toward the balcony as a group of children screamed. Piccolo had to stifle a moan. The pants hugged Vegeta’s ass so perfectly. Had there ever been an ass on Earth as sexy as Vegeta’s? Piccolo felt confident that the answer was no. The best thing Earth had ever gained from outer space was Vegeta’s perfect ass.

The _thump-drag_ was on the move now with another little wheeze of wicked laughter. Vegeta startled and dropped into fighting stance. Part of the reason he hadn’t seen Piccolo was the way the bed was set back into a little alcove, so it was more fully in shadow.

Vegeta’s face looked puzzled as he moved stealthily toward the noise. “What the actual fuck?” Vegeta muttered.

Vegeta stood in the doorway looking out of the bedroom. Piccolo, despite feeling certain the noises were something completely harmless, didn’t want Vegeta to leave without unchaining Piccolo. Perhaps Bulma had given him the key. Piccolo made the smallest noise he could make that Vegeta would hear over the now faster _thump-drag_.

Vegeta spun as Piccolo cleared his throat. Vegeta’s eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up. “What the other actual fuck?” Vegeta whispered and crept toward the dark and shadowed bed. Another creepy laugh drifted in the door. Vegeta looked warily over his shoulder.

“Fuck me!” Vegeta breathed as he stepped to where he could likely finally see what was strapped to the bed.

Piccolo strained against the chains to indicate that he couldn’t break them. Vegeta’s eyes crawled over his body. He smirked when he saw the words on the thong, but quickly tried to hide it as his eyes darted up to Piccolo’s. Vegeta was clearly trying to assess whether Piccolo had caught him staring at Piccolo’s package.

 _Thump-drag, thump-drag, thump-drag_ , titter. The noise was fast now and it was not encouraging to Piccolo that Vegeta looked worried.

Vegeta hissed, “What the fuck, Piccolo? Who…who…who left you like this?”

“Ulma!”

“You’re fucking Bulma?!”

“O!” Piccolo tried to make himself understood. “Ake ag ah!”

“What? Oh!” Vegeta said and crawled onto the big bed to take the gag out of Piccolo’s mouth.

“Can you get these fucking things off me or not? What the fuck is making that noise?” Piccolo said, a little more frantic than he wanted to sound. He swallowed a few times and slid his jaw back and forth to recover from the gag.

Vegeta looked back toward the door as the noise suddenly stopped. He rose up on his knees. Piccolo closed his eyes. He could not look at Vegeta’s ass while in a man-thong, chained to a bed, it would not be good. The result was already trying to happen. Piccolo thought of the horrible noise outside the room that was now ominously silent. Surely with that spooky business he couldn’t get a hard-on. No wonder the kids thought the house was haunted. The house _was_ haunted.

“I don’t know, I didn’t see anything. Even when I could hear it. Why don’t you just break the chains?” Vegeta said, “What the hell kind of partner leaves you chained up?”

“It’s not like that. Bulma and I are just friends, this was her crack-pot idea—“

“What? To chain you up for fun but not for sex? You two are bizarre. Why can’t you two just have normal sex?”

“What? I don’t have any kind of sex with Bulma!” Piccolo protested.

“You two don’t fool me. You’re always sneaking off together just the two of you! Why don’t you just do it at Capsule Corp. This is a bizarre place to—“

Piccolo cut him off, “I’m not fucking Bulma! But can we chat once you get these fucking chains off? Those noises were creepy as hell. Come on, use your super-Saiyan, sexy Goblin-King ass to break them!” Piccolo closed his eyes tightly upon realizing what he had just said to Vegeta.

Piccolo opened his eyes again when Vegeta remained silent and motionless. Vegeta’s cheeks were flushed and he was breathing fast. He whispered, “Wait…did you say you’re _not_ fucking Bulma?”

“No, of course I’m not fucking Bulma! I’m gay!” Piccolo said in barely more than whisper.

“You think I’m sexy as the Goblin-King? You recognized my costume?!” Vegeta said, and he turned back around completely until he was on all fours, leaning in so he could see Piccolo’s face in the silvery moonlight.

“Yeah, I fucking love _Labyrinth_ , now fucking unchain me!”

Vegeta startled the shit out of Piccolo as he lunged down and kissed him. Piccolo’s attempts to keep his hard-on suppressed failed immediately. Fuck, Bulma was not kidding, Vegeta was an excellent kisser. His tongue was expert and sensual and made Piccolo pant as he lifted his head to kiss Vegeta more thoroughly. Vegeta gasped against his lips, kissed down his jaw, onto his neck, and licked his way back up. “Fuck you taste better than I imagined,” Vegeta murmured.

 _Thump-drag, thump-drag._ Vegeta whirled back toward the door, but there was nothing in the room. He hopped off the bed, his high-heeled boots clacking as he walked to the door to look again. Gods, Piccolo wanted to slap that ass so badly. The boots made it even more delicious. Even tighter. That booty would be the death of Piccolo.

“What the hell is making that noise? I thought Bulma was up to something when she sent me over here to check it out, but she, Goten, and Trunks were all white as sheets when they talked about it. They said I had to go because there was something they left that they felt bad about, but they got freaked out. I can only assume that _you_ are what they left?” Vegeta said, searching the darkest corners of the room.

The noise began to recede outside the room. Vegeta started to chase it but Piccolo almost squeaked, “Vegeta! Fucking get me off this bed before you do whatever you’re going to do!”

Vegeta spun elegantly on his heels and swaggered toward the bed with a devilish smirk on his face. “Get you off, hmm?”

Piccolo said, “Yes, hurry!” Then he fully understood Vegeta’s meaning. His eyes widened and he moved to speak more, but Vegeta lithely moved up onto the bed and straddled Piccolo. He still held the cane in one hand as he rolled his hips down against Piccolo’s crotch, simultaneously fulfilling two of Piccolo’s most vivid fantasies. It was only with a tiny amount of shame that Piccolo masturbated while watching _Labyrinth_ and imagining Jareth riding his hips, taking his cock, and smirking down at him just as Vegeta was doing now. Minus the taking of Piccolo’s cock. But the night was young, Piccolo thought. He really had no idea how long he’d been out with whatever shit Bulma had given him.

Vegeta ran a flat hand down Piccolo’s chest and abs, cupped Piccolo’s fully hard cock as he rubbed his own very hard cock against it. Piccolo forgot about the awful noises outside the master suite as Vegeta pressed their pricks together more. Piccolo tried not to moan like he was already getting fucked, but then Vegeta reached inside the man-thong, and even through the leather glove, his hand was warm.

Piccolo breathed, “Vegeta, fuck…”

“Yes, I would like that very much,” Vegeta said and bent down to kiss Piccolo more as he slowly stroked Piccolo’s rigid length.

“Can you get these fucking things off?” Piccolo panted out.

Vegeta smirked, his mouth hovering right above Piccolo’s mouth, and purred, “I imagine I can, but I’m not going to. Not yet anyway.”

“What? Seriously?” Piccolo said.

Vegeta kissed him soundly and stood up on the bed. Piccolo was going to die from Vegeta’s costume. He poked the cane into the bed beside Piccolo’s waist and placed both his hands on top of it. “I kind of want to fuck you in costume, but I need a moment to consider the logistics.”

“Fuck, Vegeta, pull your dick out and fuck me, it’s not that complicated!”

Vegeta’s eyes went wide and Piccolo never thought of Vegeta as having a dopey smile, but he did now. Vegeta stammered, “I…you…um…yes?”

“Yeah, fucking hell, I don’t what the creepy thing in the hallway is, but I do know I want you to fuck me and get me the fuck out of here, then we can discuss other godsdamned logistics of you fucking me! Hurry up!”

Vegeta’s face split even further into a predatory grin and he groaned, “Fuck yes, spit okay?”

“Touch my palm,” Piccolo said, nodding up at his hand.

Vegeta looked completely confused, but pulled the glove off his right hand with his teeth. Piccolo thought maybe he could die happy after seeing Vegeta pull a glove off with his teeth, still standing imperiously over Piccolo, his hard-on deliciously visible in his tight trousers. Vegeta tossed his cane off the side of the bed. He dropped to his knees again, touched Piccolo’s palm, and said, “Holy shit!” Piccolo’s ability to magically create lube was a useful feature in a gay partner.

Vegeta pulled his prick out, shoving his pants down just enough. He ripped Piccolo’s thong off and licked up the underside of Piccolo’s shaft. Vegeta growled, “I assumed you were a top.”

“Yeah, I am, but I don’t care. I’m going to fuck you at some point.”

“I…oh…are…is…”

“Shut up and fuck me, Vegeta. This house is fucking haunted!” Piccolo whispered.

Vegeta slathered his cock with lube and reached between Piccolo’s legs. Piccolo gasped as Vegeta caressed his pucker. Bulma had strapped Piccolo so tight to the bed that he wasn’t completely sure this would work well, but if anyone could make it hot, it was Vegeta, so Piccolo entrusted him to fuck Piccolo properly.

Vegeta eased his forefinger inside Piccolo and Vegeta’s silvery eyelids fluttered down. He murmured, “I thought you were with the woman this whole time…”

“How do you not know I’m gay? I’m ogling you all the time,” Piccolo said, a lopsided grin tilting up his lips on one side.

Vegeta breathed, “I thought it was wishful thinking. Fuck, you are so godsdamned tight, Piccolo. Are you sure?” Vegeta slid a second finger in with the first and started stretching Piccolo, spreading his fingers apart as he eased in and out of Piccolo.

“Yeah, I’m more than fucking sure, Vegeta, I’m really fucking impatient. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. You’re destroying me in that costume, but also that noise was creepy as all hell, so either unchain me if you want to have a leisurely fuck, or get to it if you want to fuck me tied to a bed in a haunted house, you wicked, wicked little man.”

“Everyone’s little compared to you,” Vegeta said and shifted himself. “This is a bit of a challenge, she should have consulted Trunks on what position to tie you up in for a man to fuck your ass.”

Piccolo laughed and said, “Yeah, he’s still pretending.”

“I know, I think he thinks I’ll care. Fucking Earthlings.”

“I think Bulma also thought this was subtle,” Piccolo said, “I hear you’re best friends with a cat.”

Vegeta chortled and said, “Fucking sneaky woman.” Vegeta held his breath and eased the head of his prick into Piccolo.

Piccolo gasped, completely unused to anything bigger than his own finger being in his ass. He didn’t want to look away, but his head tried to fly back as he cried out. Vegeta pushed steadily deeper inside Piccolo. Piccolo whispered, “Your dick is huge, Vegeta, fucking gods.”

“Sorry, for now, but not for long,” Vegeta said with a dark little smirk.

Vegeta sank himself completely in Piccolo. He reached his ungloved hand up for more lube. He eased in and out of Piccolo, still slow and steady, adding more lube every time. “You okay?”

“Yeah, fuck, just easy to start,” Piccolo breathed.

Vegeta shoved his pelvis against the mattress to change his angle of penetration and Piccolo let out a high, helpless cry as Vegeta’s cock slammed into his prostate. Vegeta’s silver eyelids glinted in the moonlight as they fell heavy with his pleasure. He braced himself on the mattress with his bare hand and ran the gloved one over Piccolo’s torso, all the way down the inside of Piccolo’s inner thigh. The hot leather made Piccolo shiver.

Vegeta pumped hard now that he’d found Piccolo’s spot. Piccolo gasped out Vegeta’s name over and over. It felt strange to not be able to touch the first person to fuck him. Piccolo vaguely wished that the creepy thing in the house had been solved so that Vegeta could ride Piccolo in just those fucking boots while Piccolo was still chained up.

Vegeta growled, “Fucking gods, Piccolo, your ass is incredible. I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long.”

Piccolo’s head had flown back about the third time Vegeta’s thick cock rammed into his prostate. He rolled it back to look into Vegeta’s eyes. He panted, “You…you have?”

“Yes, gods, yes. I…fuck…I’m…oh fuck, Piccolo, are you close? You’re so fucking tight, I’m losing my mind…” Vegeta gasped out.

Piccolo’s heart thundered to find out maybe Vegeta wanted to be with him. Piccolo tried to hide from Bulma how badly he wanted to _be_ with Vegeta in part because he felt so certain that it was an impossibility. Piccolo breathed, “Come inside me, Vegeta…I’m coming!”

Vegeta’s eyes met Piccolo’s as Piccolo splattered his belly with his own cum. Vegeta groaned, “Fuck, I love you…” His eyes were glassy and his mouth fell open as Piccolo felt the heat of Vegeta’s seed fill him. Vegeta’s eyelids fluttered. He rolled into Piccolo more slowly as they shivered through the final tremors of their orgasms.

Vegeta looked stunned, like he hadn’t meant to confess that. Piccolo was scared, terrified, but he didn’t want to hide his feelings or shield his heart at the expense of Vegeta clamming up and fleeing in emotionally exposed fear. Vegeta sank into all the way into Piccolo and held himself there. Piccolo said, “I love you too…I have…for a while.”

Vegeta kissed Piccolo’s belly, unable to reach his mouth from their respective positions. He eased out of Piccolo and cleaned him off with a corner of the sheet. He kissed Piccolo deeply and said, “I thought you were with the woman after we split. And I never would have been with the woman if…if I’d realized. When I first came to Earth, the distinction in sexualities here confused me. It convinced me that no one on Earth had sex with anyone but the opposite sex. I cared for Bulma, do care for her, but…” Vegeta shrugged.

The noise returned: _thump-drag._ Vegeta stuffed himself back in his pants. He yanked perfunctorily on the chains and when they didn’t break, he looked confused. “Interesting. Give me a moment.”

“No! Don’t leave me strapped to the bed to go investigate a weird noise! That’s classic horror movie shit, Vegeta!”

“Hmm…True,” Vegeta said and tapped his chin. The noises, the thumping and dragging and wicked laughter all moved toward them quickly until Vegeta hopped back up on the bed, staring where the sound was coming from. Piccolo saw a strange shimmer in the moonlight. Vegeta saw it too and pounced.

The thing crunched and was suddenly visible. It was a crushed drone with a paddle with a weight on one side of a wheel. That explained that noise. It made one more sad, broken, giggling noise. It flickered more, and Piccolo realized it must have had some sort of cloaking device. Vegeta picked it up in his bare hand. He shook it and a box fell out.

He squatted and Piccolo wanted out of the chains now. Vegeta’s Jareth costume was still effecting Piccolo. He had ideas. Plans. Desires. Vegeta opened the metal box, long and skinny like an envelope. Which seemed to be what it contained. Vegeta pulled the paper out. The moonlight glittered on his eyeshadow as his eyes moved to read whatever was on the first page. It was a fairly thick sheaf of papers.

Vegeta pulled a set of keys out of the box too. Piccolo breathed a sigh of relief. “Fucking Bulma,” he said and chuckled, “What’s the letter?”

“She…she’s put this house in…in our name. She said her mother will help us with the renovation if we want. And that Scratch can come live with us. That the chains are ours to keep too.”

“Wow, that is some confidence. What exactly did you say to Scratch?”

“That is none of your fucking business,” Vegeta said, folded the papers back up and put them in the box. He retrieved his cane.

“So…you gonna unlock these bad boys? I can’t believe you can’t break them either. She is a fucking genius,” Piccolo said and tugged hard on the chains. Vegeta’s eyes slid over his body again. “Hey, come on, unlock please.”

Vegeta climbed above him again and said, “No, I don’t think I will. Not yet. Now that our haunting is solved, I have no incentive at all to free you.” Vegeta smirked and arched an eyebrow at Piccolo.

Piccolo laughed and said, “Well…if you’re gonna keep me chained up, can I at least put in requests?”

Vegeta only smiled and bent to kiss Piccolo’s mouth. It didn’t take long until Piccolo didn’t want to be unchained either.


End file.
